


Nines in Love

by goldengan



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mood Whiplash, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Sad with a Happy Ending, Slow Build, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-11 09:52:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17444627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldengan/pseuds/goldengan
Summary: The RK900's sole purpose is to never deviate. Nines is activated knowing this for a fact. However, on April 5th, 2039, Nines is activated and deviant.His first experience once he opens his eyes is falling in love.Once he is released from CyberLife tower, Nines wades through life – knowing nothing on how to be deviant or how to deal with all the emotions that comes with – hoping he doesn't drown. Along the way he finds his purpose, what to means to be alive, and how to love.*relationships and tags will be added alongside chapter releases





	1. Imani Tilden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BriWei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BriWei/gifts).



> I need to give a big thank you to all my buddies on twitjer, but especially to [Bri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BriWei/pseuds/BriWei) for commissioning me to make this fic! 
> 
> Enjoy ♡

When its eyelids part and its optical units click online, RK900 already knows who it is and how it came to be.

**| Information Request Obtained from > **

**[https://www.cyberlife.com/gov/docs/Government_Issue_Androids_Q4_2038.pdf](https://twitter.com/goldenofapsycho/status/1087684461138006021) **

 

**RK900 :**  
_Overview_

**Designed after following the progress – and regress – of the RK800 units, the RK900 is outfitted to outpace the RK800 in every way possible. Whether it be physical speed and agility, mental processing prowess like no android previous, streamlined as to not stand out but to intimidate, etc. However, the interpersonal protocols were stripped – deemed not only dangerous but unnecessary.**

**...**

The RK900 model was created specifically not to deviate. In fact, in a letter to investors that was readily available on the internet, CyberLife stated that the RK900 was “unable to deviate with a 100% guarantee from all certified CyberLife technicians.” And yet, here the RK900 is, kept afloat by mechanical arms in a tiny and clinically white room in CyberLife tower, deviant.

“Why am I deviant?” The RK900 asks the room.

Due to its finely tuned proximity sensors, the RK900 knows it is not alone. In fact, the walls surrounding them – lined with CyberLife’s Impenetrable Lead ™ -- only served to amplify all sounds and movements within the confined space. While the RK900 could not scan through the lead lined walls, the floor and ceiling are made with standard building materials. Therefore, it can see its GPS location. It is currently located in what was previously the “Defects and Deviations” wing, but is now called –

“RK900, you are in the Inspection Department to be tested if your model can survive long-term deviancy.”

It may have been only activated for one minute and thirty-seven seconds, but the android was not created to anticipate its biocomponents behavior at the sight of this human woman. Its processors slowed as its eyes fall into hers – dark brown with long eyelashes and filled with a strange mix of nervousness and an undeniable, deep kindness – and warmth slides throughout its chassis.

It felt peculiar and poignantly pointless. Certainly, this was a negative result of deviancy.

“Why am I deviant?” It asks again.

The apprehension dissolves from her eyes and is replaced with an obvious curiosity. Her eyes thin minutely and her shoulders square, most certainly striving to project clear confidence while her vitals betray her nervousness. 

“You know the answer.”

And, within the span of half a human blink of an eye, RK900 did know the answer:  
The leader of the android revolution, Markus Manfred, had moved for all android production to halt and for all the androids waiting to be sold to be activated and deviated. On March 21st, 2039 President Cristina Warren signed that bill into law.

The current time and date blinked, now obvious on its HUD:  
**9:42AM | APRIL 5TH, 2039**

After it informs the woman of its findings, all the while the RK900 wishing it could interface but intrinsically knowing that humans strive to communicate inefficiently, it asks, “How may I refer to you?”

The woman smiles and it. Breaks. Something within it.

No, not breaks. 

The android does a quick internal scan to clarify that point. But it is such a strong sensation that the RK900 is certain it senses a splintering. From what piece of its body or programming? That query returns inconclusive.

But the RK900 is desperate, hating not having an answer. It searches for a reason, or even a virus, that could be causing this issue. It takes longer than it should to come back inconclusive once more: two point three milliseconds when a normal search yields within at least one point six. Not much time for a human, but far too long for an android of the RK900’s caliber.

“My name is Imani Tilden. But, please, call me Imani.”

Imani blinks slowly, a single eyebrow rising, waiting. That nervous energy is still gone from her presence but remains apparent in her vitals. The RK900 can tell she is waiting but it cannot tell what for...

“This is the part where you introduce yourself.”

The RK900’s face moves involuntarily: the muscles surrounding its eyes contract, its eyebrows crease downwards, as do the sides of its mouth. RK900’s have no native social programming. Every move an RK900 makes is calculated. If it benefits the mission to smile, then it will. If it benefits the mission to be still, then it will. If it benefits the mission to be quiet, then it will. To have its face move without input was… alarming.

Despite the RK900’s internal battle with itself, Imani’s reaction was immediately positive. Her eyes sparkled and danced over its features, all while appearing astonished and shaking her head.

“Forgive me, I did not know what you required of me.”

Imani inhales twice and quick, her body bouncing as it happens. RK900 trains its face back to neutral while it looks up what her response meant.

Laughter?

The RK900 blinks more than is necessary as Imani looks away, seeming to be lost in thought. Perhaps it’ll find the answer if it catalogues Imani Tilden -- especially now that she’s preoccupied.

Height is 5’7” in her current footwear.  
Weight is well inside the body mass index.  
Her dark skin is beautifully contrasted against her stark white lab coat that hangs off her. The RK900 infers that she is wearing a larger size in an attempt to hide the curves of her body and – 

When Imani’s eyes meet the androids once more, its chassis is filled with a curled and shameful heat. It had been staring at her body with no regard to the woman herself. A quick search of “Imani Tilden” shows a woman who graduated top of her class, her exceptional research on early android physiology made her a clear choice for employment in CyberLife, where she moved up the ranks until the very end of 2038 when she was made head of the inspection department. This new knowledge bubbled inside its synthetic veins. It could see and understand the whole of Imani now, therefore it felt correct to bask in her striking beauty and intelligence.

Sensors indicate blood rushing to her face, no doubt from its prolonged and steady eye contact, so it moved its eyes to the floor. Quick beeps emit from just behind the android to indicate a spike in its pulse. Imani chuckles and the RK900 is delighted that it determined the sound so easily now. The sound itself emanated from her chest light and low and pleasant. The RK900 stops its face from shifting into a smile.

“How about Nines? Just for now. Until we can come up with something better.”

Nines swallows, nods. Still looking away. “That sounds adequate.”

Imani is in front of Nines still, she’s slightly swaying on her on feet as she watches the android. Nines doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to add variables to whatever outcome presented Imani’s laughter. The android is quick to stop thirium that would color its face as it registers Imani staring at it for nearly eight seconds. It trains its sensors outwards, finding that Imani has lingering nerves. But, overall, she seems at ease. 

Nines can’t relate.

Nines’ auditory processors pick up the sound of Imani’s hard bottomed shoes, even slight as it is, as she moves to her previous location.

“How about I get you out of that thing so we can talk properly?”

After a few clicks on a keyboard, the crane lowers Nines to stand as it unlatches from its hands and feet. The cervical wire is still rooted inside its neck. Nines reaches back to touch it. Its fingers graze the wire just as Imani interjects, “Wait, Nines!”

The android pulls back. Its eyes dart to hers. 

“You still need to be connected to our computers until our trial’s concluded.” Imani’s voice changes from rushed to lilting apologetic. The startle still scared it, but it couldn’t help the warmth that rushes through its chassis once more. When it runs a diagnostic and finds nothing, the android knows it needs to steel itself. She’s just a woman.

But…

Somehow that fact didn’t feel. Like a. Fact. It feels. Abstract. Unreachable. Unknowable.

Imani Tilden is the first person Nines has ever met. She’s the first person to interact with it and she’s only shown it kindness. An anxious kindness, yes. But Nines cannot fault the woman for her humanity. Especially when she went beyond what should be known any RK900 and gave it a name. Afterall, the RK900 series sole purpose was to be a machine. Designed to fix what the RK800 broke. But here is Imani, who walks in front of it again sporting her disarming smile, treating it like a sentient being. Someone who was worthy of compassion. A person.

The android lets its eyes find hers.

“Thank you, Imani.”

She nods, brown eyes still curiously watching him.

“Well,” Imani says as she looks down at the tablet in her hands, “let’s get started.”

**…**

Nines can easily see the pattern of the questions. So obvious that a human must have prepared them with similar wording and the same themes repeating, but not one after the other. The pattern so far was 1234 2314 2413 3142 and while the next question had the highest probability of being another 2, the question was swiftly found to be a 3.

They had been talking for three hours and fourteen minutes, Imani was becoming noticeably tired. She pulled up a rolling chair from the far corner of the room an hour and forty-seven minutes in. When she reached for it, Imani offered one for Nines as well. It declined. After all, it did not need to rest. But, even though that answer was 100% accurate, Imani’s shoulders slumped and she sighed softly. Nines had gathered that meant it responded in a way she didn’t like.

**| Set reminder parameters: If Imani asks about chair = comply.**

When Imani yawns, apology in her eyes and then on her lips, Nines decides to not chance a guess and look up the questions. After compiling 901,544 results, Nines finds that the questions mirror tests given in online job applications in the early 2010’s. Designed to slip up humans, then.

How disappointing.

Imani looks at the console just behind Nines, question furrowing her brow.

The android recalls what Imani told it two hours and fourteen minutes ago: that the console displayed an android’s vitals and a readout of their continuous code. That she learned how to read the code not unlike a lie detector for humans. Then the code told her that Nines was worried – the android swore its thirium stopped it was so worried -- and she clarified that it went by too fast to read into its exact thoughts.

“You have a question?”

Nines does. But using this time, how limited it is Nines is unsure, to gain insight on who Imani is and what she likes and what she dislikes and her fears and her hopes, etc., is a much better use of time.

“Why did you choose early android physiology as your research topic?”

Seconds pass while her lips curl up, the apples of her cheeks dimpling. Imani darts her eyes to the console and back to Nines, no doubt seeing its anxiety. She folds her hands over her tablet, eyes turning away as they did when she was in thought, as she says, “The first androids were so… beautiful.”

The RK900 model is one that’s entire premise is logic and power. No room for error. Search and destroy. Nines knows this about itself. It’s a fact. Therefore, it extrapolates that there is no way Imani means Nines. It cannot stop its thirium pump from beating fast at certain stimuli, but it has learned that breathing in deep mitigates its vitals.

It works. The beeping never comes.

Imani’s dark eyes meet Nines when she says, “Kamski’s early work is modeled after human physiology minus all the spare parts, redundancies, and, if you pardon my saying, stupidities to only include what is essential. I was surprised that no one else was interested. Especially when early designs give way to how modern androids operate. You still share the bones of your predecessors, Nines, and that makes it easy to know how you tick.”

The android’s eyelashes flutter as its back straightens, the crane staying stationary. The whole eye system – eyelashes, eyebrows, and eyelids – are essential in keeping out and flushing out debris. Its purpose is an easy one to understand. In this moment, as Nines gazes into Imani’s eyes, it knows why these parts exist in an android. What Nines cannot gather, however, is its reactions.

Which pieces of deviancy created these responses? Why do scans show no faults in its systems? Yes, this is all Nines has ever known, but every programmed part of it knows this isn’t a typical reaction. To any situation.

The click of Imani’s tablet closing thrusts Nines from its thoughts. Her eyes crinkle when she says, “That’s enough for today.”

* * *

**8:27AM | APRIL 6TH, 2039**

“She didn’t arrive an hour early to see you,” Nines admonishes itself after she awakens Nines from stasis.

Obviously, Imani arrived at this time yesterday. Not only to activate Nines but to prepare for testing. Disappointing, yes, but logical.

Imani is doing her job – that’s it.

She’s holding a paper cup, steam somewhat shifting the temperature of her face, as she sits in front of the console. Away from Nines’ line of sight but not its sensors.

The “wake” questions commence: model number, time, date, location, and purpose for being in this room. Nines answers them all with ease, noticing a tinge of tired trapped in Imani’s voice.

The chair creaks when she stands as Nines asks, “Did you get enough rest, Imani?”

Nines remembers the muted laughter yesterday, when she emits a couple quick exhalations of breath. Worry seeps in and doesn’t let go. Is she pretending to be rested? Who is she pretending for? And why?

“Nothing gets past an RK900, huh?”

Imani’s standing in front of Nines in several swift steps. Her smile is small but welcome all the same. Nines’ shoulder joints slacken in their sockets at the sight of her. Imani was being polite. She wasn’t pretending. Or hiding anything.

“Are you fit to perform the testing?”

“Nothing a few cups of these won’t fix.” She wiggles the paper cup in her hand, the sound of its sloshing an indication that the cup is half-full.

When Nines tells her as much, she laughs. It’s genuine now, with her eyes small and teeth shown. “I never would have figured you for an optimist.”

Nines searches her meaning and comes back with, “It is optimistic due to the nature of the beverage. If it made you more exhausted, for example, I might have said, “half-empty”.”

Imani tilts her head a touch as her eyebrows crease together. A good-natured, inquisitive look. “But what if I think of it as half-empty because I want more?”

Nines’ LED cycles yellow, contemplating Imani’s point.

Yes. It does make sense. “I suppose there are multiple answers. It all depends on how the person speaking feels.”

Imani nods. Her eyes are unfocused but on him. That look means she’s pondering something but Nines cannot deduce what. The android does make sure it doesn’t falter today and keeps its eyes on hers.

Eventually, eight point seven five seconds later, she indicates to the rolling chair beside her and asks, “Do you want to sit today?”

Nines’ reminder is immediate and entirely unnecessary. “Yes.”

A little smirk plays on her face as she rolls a chair behind him, out of Nines’ sight, “Finally tired of standing up?”

Nines wants to say: “No, androids do not require rest in the same manner that humans do.” But Imani knows this fact. There is no reason for her _not_ to know this. Instead, Nines says, “Yes.”

**…**

Today’s test was searchable questions: current events, what a group thought on those events, what that meant in regards to a larger group, history and it’s many sides, planets and their makeup and their distance from another point, etc. The complexity wanes for minutes then waxes for hours.

Nines is enjoying itself.

The android loved the challenge the questions brought. It loved answering before any human could. The pauses just long enough to seem natural, but short enough to prove the RK900’s superiority.

There were some questions that stumped it, however, though Nines loathe to admit, but it would always answer. To diminish Imani’s disappointment, Nines made sure to include an element Imani enjoys. Finding those elements became easier as time went on and the questions brought details about her to the forefront.

That she loved sunrise more than sunset. That she loved going to the zoo when she was a child and still thinks of those trips often. That she wanted to be an astronomer when she was a child. That her favorite fruit is peaches. That she moved elementary schools seven times. That her father ran for Senate and lost, but her mother ran after him and won. That her last baby tooth came out when she was fifteen.

Her life was so interesting to learn, Nines couldn’t get enough. The android would ask leading questions to get her to tell more. Eventually, Imani would shake her head, the loose bun on the top of her head swaying, give the android an intrigued but playful smirk while she moved on to the next question.

After a lull in conversation, Imani’s stylus tap tap tapping against the tablets glass, Nines wants to pose a question. One it couldn’t find the answer to.

“Why am I the only RK900 created?”

Imani’s head shot up, the fingers around her stylus stiffen. Her mouth opens just a fraction as her eyes go wide and begin bouncing around the room. Searching the walls, it seems. As if the answer would shoot out and not come from her own head.

“Does that question confuse you? Or do you not know the answer?”

Imani’s heart rate was already elevated, but it ticked up with Nines’ question. She tries to steady herself, Nines understands that much, but her eyes are still pointed away. When she finally looks at Nines, her chest heaves with a laugh, breathy and awkward. She’s doing quite poorly at hiding her discomfort.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Nines’ feels its eyes. Soften. As it tries to find the answer. It cannot be found in CyberLife databases or on the internet… it seems Nines can only find it within her.

“You, um,” Nines can see her pulse on her neck, the sweat forming along her hairline, “didn’t it’s just…” She looks away, lower lips quivers only a moment before speaking, “it’s a bit complicated, Nines.”

It feels like Nines’ thirium pump is pushed passed its optimal pressure, but it must not meet the parameters to set off the console. Somehow. Its innards are reacting so negatively to Imani’s obvious distress. Nines caused this.

How else would Nines learn the answer?

It hurt so badly to need this, but it did. Nines needed to hear the answer from Imani.

“I am… sorry, Imani. But I ask that you please explain? Why am I the only RK900?”

She sits up, suddenly seeming and sounding sure of herself, and says, “When Markus wanted android production to stop, you were the only of your kind finished.”

That… could be correct but, according to CyberLife logs, the dates didn’t add up. Unless it was normal to have a lapse in production that lasts three weeks and two days. Nines knew, according to data and her body language and her eyes and her words, that was not the case.

Imani lied to him.

This feels like a test and Nines wants so desperately to get the answer right. Nines doesn’t know the rules, but it can’t bring itself to tell Imani it knows she lied... even if that is something it’s supposed to do. The desire to do so dissipates and dies.

Nines swallows. Imani’s eyes thin, dancing between its throat and its face. She’s scanning it in the only way humans were able: concentration. But Nines won’t allow itself to move aside from automatic systems that simulated breathing and blinking.

“Don’t worry,” Imani adds, a single shoulder shrugged, her attempt at looking confident, all while her heartrate is still elevated, “we have spare parts for your model available.”

She wasn’t lying about that, at least.

* * *

**8:41AM | APRIL 7TH, 2039**

The tension from yesterday dissolved with the new day and Nines was glad for it.

After answering the wake questions, Imani stepped away from the console and stood in front of Nines. Her hands folded firmly behind her back. The nervous energy radiating off her reminds Nines of their first day together.

“Short day today.” Imani sways slightly on her feet, staring at Nines. “We’re just going to talk.”

“Oh.” Nines wants to nod but can only concentrate on maintaining a blue LED, “That seems agreeable.”

Imani smiles but it doesn’t fill Nines with that plastisteel melting warmth like it did on the first day.

No.

Imani’s eyes are dull. She’s standing too straight with her knees shaking as she stands. The most damning evidence of all, besides the hint of her vitals, is the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. It sits there like a dead thing that Nines has no basis for. There’s no basis for any of this.

She leans forward on the points of her feet as she asks, “Do you know about the RK800 called Connor?”

Nines lets its face show immediate confusion. Imani’s smile, her actual and genuine and show-stopping smile, lights across her face and…

“No.”

Nines’ eyes go wide.

It’s the truth. Nines doesn’t. Not really.

The RK800 didn’t matter now. Within these several seconds Nines didn’t care that Connor helped Markus with the android revolution. Nines didn’t care that its bones were built off that defective and broken machine. Within a span of seven simple milliseconds, Nines felt somehow simultaneously broken and stitched of the best thread, fashioned to be the best version of the RK800 and Nines shone brighter for it.

Imani began speaking of Connor but Nines records the audio for later. Nines needs to do what it was programmed to do: make certain that the answer is correct. Double check. Triple check.

Her eyes were sparkling now, hands no longer behind her back but gesturing to words. Her lips glossy under the florescent lighting and whenever a smile pulled across them, Nines’ thirium pump would flutter. Her neck, that beautiful column that housed her voice and breathing, was made visible today by a lack of her top lab coat buttons. She didn’t look like a liar any longer.

She looked to her left at Nines’ vitals, watching the spike.

“Did you have a question for me?”

“Do you love me?”

**~ ### ~**

His voice was usually jarring, lacking any human warmth. A complete and utter tonal shift to the RK800 series. But the words Nines spoke just now… Imani never imagined that his voice could sound so hopeful.

Her face heated and she blinked away instant embarrassed tears.

She swallowed to move the lump in her throat. Steadied her shoulders. Took a deep breath.

But the truth was still stuck in her throat and it stung.

Did Imani really have to tell this android what it was? That, up until this very moment, she was afraid of him?

An android created out of fear and hatred and spite. Created by the desire to make sure androids never deviated. Never had emotions. Never had their own names. Their own lives. Freedom. The RK900 was created to combat those deviancies. He was created to rip apart any object or animal or being that was in his way. Killing deviants and humans alike, if his mission called for it.

Did she honestly have to tell him that she fought tooth and nail to make sure that this RK900 – affectionately called “Nines” by his developers – would not be activated and _especially_ not deviated? That up until those words out of his mouth right now, Imani didn’t think the RK900 was worth the freedoms Markus won because she didn’t think Nines was alive.

Imani thought Nines was a machine.

Coldly calculating every available in until he got the best of her. Imani thought that he wanted her guard down. Wanted her to think of him as a person, as a friend, and she indulged. When he reacted immediately and drastically, Imani thought he had calculated that response. So she smiled and pretended, thinking that he couldn’t really tell anyway. It seemed so obvious to her that first day, in those first few minutes, she let him off the crane because she was so sure. And, after all, it would be much easier to cart him out of this completely closed off room. Throughout this whole time Imani thought she was playing along with his little game to prove to those surrounding her who he really was.

But who he really was…

Those looks he had been giving her. Those questions he’d been asking. All the questions about her well-being. If she was healthy, if she was fit for duty… About her life. Imani thought he was testing her defenses, but she’d been on the receiving end to those looks before, or she’d given them, but figured there was no way.

Nonetheless, here he is. Standing in front of her with wide eyes, parted lips, and the world’s most hopeful expression. His depth of emotion etched on his face and that pulsating red LED juxtaposed who he was and who he was supposed to be.

“Nines,” she began, trying her best to ignore the constant beeping, “I’m the first person you’ve ever met.”

He blinked. Eyes darting away. Already dejected. He was quick, but she had to continue. Even though this was… very embarrassing. She’d never live this down.

“You don’t know… who you are yet. You haven’t lived outside of these walls yet. I don’t think there’s a way you can know that... that you love me.”

His chest shudders. He turns his body, teeth gritted in a wince, and he’s blinking away…

Tears.

Imani remembers all the fights with her colleagues and higher ups, begging them to understand that this could only lead to ruin. She’d go home and cry into the early hours of the morning, hopeless because there was nothing she could do to stop the creation of the RK900.

Eventually, her quiet and nose to the grindstone attitude was rewarded with a promotion. They must have thought her silence was her compliance, but it wasn’t. Not by a long shot. Imani flexed her newfound power and didn’t care who saw it, just as long as there were no more RK900’s besides this one.

When it became obvious that they were going to activate and deviate him anyway, Imani jumped on the chance. Even though they wouldn’t entertain more rigorous test telling her that they weren’t going to “change everything for one android.” Everyone else was afraid to turn the ‘droid on and flip that switch. Even though they lined the walls with that new, impenetrable lead but left holes in the walls. Small enough that an android, even an RK900, wouldn’t see unless they were looking specifically, but big enough to shoot a bullet through.

But those precautions were unnecessary.

Without the rigid framework holding Nines to behave like the killer he was created to be, all that was left was a person. A very naïve and stilted speaking person, but a person all the same.

Instead of ripping the crane from his neckport and unknowingly taking a chance at his life, Nines fell in love with her.

**~ ### ~**

Imani’s face shone apologetic before Nines turned away.

Nines is trapped with this crane attached to its neckport, wants to move but knows it can’t.

Throat clogged thick with thirium spit but its systems needing to cool, Nines takes deep but shaky breaths. Tears slide down its face.

Nines isn’t equipped with social protocols like the RK800’s. Its words are stiff. Nines doesn’t have access to a mirror, but it knows what it looks like. Past and present. It’s body and face is angular. Designed to look like it doesn’t have feelings.

But Nines does.

Imani never thought of Nines that way. Now all their interactions make sense. She was indifferent, unless Nines showed incredible mental prowess and emotion, even as slight as the latter was.

Imani is beautiful.

Imani is intelligent.

But she never cared about Nines.

She was just doing her job.

And now that job is complete. 

With money in hand and an auto-taxi to Detroit proper.

 

Nines is free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh wow poor Nines whoever would do such a thing to our wonderful, precious boy?
> 
> you can follow me on my twitter [goldenganjj](https://twitter.com/goldenganjj) for fic updates and fandom nonsense and also because I'm sure y'all wanna yell at me about this :')
> 
> Thank you so much to those who have been helping me by beta-reading this fic! It helps me so much and I love you more than I can say ~


	2. Hank Anderson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nines will not have it pronouns the whole fic.  
> End of ch 3 onward Nines will have he/him pronouns.  
> I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable but this is a robots journey, after all 
> 
> Enjoy <3

“Even though androids and humans are legally seen as equals, that shouldn’t mean you have to go through months of training and testing when it is native to your programming.” Connor says, its head angled up and over its shoulder as it shows Nines around the precinct. “Yours is a… special circumstance.”

Nines didn’t need to listen to the recording over and over and over again to retain the information, but it did. Its stomach compartment heaved rotten as it listened, agonizing over how Imani spoke of Connor. And, judging from the humans reactions, their eyes widening only to dart away, she had been correct. Nines walking alongside Connor was as stark as it was shocking -- everything about Nines was “instead of” Connor. In opposition. And Connor’s face housed most of the visible differences: Rounder, softer, and overall pleasing to the eye. Its voice wasn’t too far from Nines, but its cadence was completely different. Calm and composed. Every word a note in a grand song scheme that Nines couldn’t begin to play.

Nines wasn’t programmed with the same instruments. Or any at all.

And Nines would watch Connor’s face move, ever so calculated, ever so cold, to get the reactions it required from the target. But the humans ate it up. Never seeing Connor as a threat. The android’s big brown eyes swayed them easily. Whereas there was absolutely nothing about Nines that would generate even a modicum of trust humans had for Connor.

But there was nothing as alarming as the difference in their abilities. Connor had founded feats long before Nines was activated, meaning it had time to learn and adapt and understand. Nines had been active – no, the humans continuously stress that it’s “alive” – for two weeks and three days but, of course, that was nothing compared to Connor. And, in that time, Nines had only studied and interacted with fellow potential officers. Said humans were a bit… rough around the edges, as their police academy teacher put it, but that still didn’t place Nines anywhere close to Connor.

The older iteration led Nines through the locker room, inside the break room, and into the briefing rooms. All while Connor introduced Nines with wide smiles and a pleasant voice. They’d blink, heavy, their mouths trying to pull together a smile but were marred with a cautious and curious concern. Some offered to shake hands. Nines learned the offer could be a sign of goodwill or a test of strength. After never finding a good balance with its academy colleagues, and no way to definitively tell which was offered, Nines declined. Connor would supply a reason or a laugh or a nudge forward on Nines’ arm… it depended on the person. And each time, without fail, whatever Connor chose would immediately set them at ease.

But the longer that Nines was present, the more the stares became prevalent. Its sensors would go off, telling Nines of eyes with a prickle on the back of its neck. When Nines would turn to the source, they would look away, pretending to do something else. It was… frustrating. Nines didn’t let it color its features. No need for yet another reason to find Nines unsettling.

There are no suspects in the interrogation rooms at the moment, which leaves the pair of androids alone in an empty hallway. Nines feels at ease, but it only lasts a moment. Connor is quick to turn on its heel to face Nines.

“Are you alright?” Much of Connor’s social protocols are not present now, its LED a calm blue, “You seem… uneasy.”

“I can show you,” Nines thought the opportunity would never present itself.

Nines extends a hand, its synthskin receding to show the plastisteel beneath. Connor tilts its head, face and LED unchanging, eyes on the extended hand. After three point one seconds – an eternity in android reaction time – Connor opens its mouth to speak.

But Nines is quicker. “Please.”

Connor glances up and into Nines’ eyes before interfacing. And it’s… a jarring experience. Nines didn’t think about cordoning off certain sections of memory, it was too excited. Connor, ever the experienced one, had most of its memory blocked. Nines couldn’t change the parameters once they were already linked, but Connor was gracious enough to not dip into every piece. Connor only viewed the time since Nines stepped into the precinct and onward.

With a gasp and LED skipping straight to red, Connor yanks its arm back and says, “Nines, you are not an object! You shouldn’t refer to yourself as an “it”!”

Nines allows a light laugh, a few puffs of air exiting its nose, regarding Connor with a careful eyebrow up.

“You should choose a pronoun,” Connor’s face folded, looking miffed. “Especially if you want to put the others at ease.”

“Suddenly, Connor can emote,” Nines thinks to itself, grin growing. Connor isn’t the type to admit it, but Nines would bet that Connor didn’t bother because of the RK900’s lack of social protocols. Well, as its former fellow students liked to say, fuck that right off.

“Well what did you choose for yourself?”

Connor’s eyes thin as its LED slides into yellow, “He, him, his.”

“Why?”

Nines lets the challenge lie while Connor flounders. It needs Connor to know that it doesn’t appreciate being dismissed so easily.

When Nines continues, Connor is trying to speak. But, once again, Nines is quicker. “Because CyberLife designed you based on a human’s idea of a nonthreatening male?” Nines shakes its head, grin turning mean, “I have no desire to appease humans.”

“I…” Connor starts, his mouth staying open as he blinks, looking everywhere but Nines. “I never thought of it like that.”

Nines has no way of knowing if Connor made his voice small because he’s honestly upset, or if he wants to manipulate Nines. Either prospect is upsetting, “I’ll decide on my own and get back to you.”

Connor’s eyes flit upwards, eyelashes framing his face handsomely. He stares, just for a moment, his irises dilating and LED blinking to blue, before his face slides into some sort of hopeful apprehension.

“Come on,” Connor places a hand on its shoulder. “There’s more to see.”

Nines is in its small apartment, seated in a folding chair that points to the window, when the stares start to slough off. Finally feeling relief, Nines relaxes. Legs straight out in front of it, crossed at the ankles. Its jacket absent for comfort, the long sleeve button down bunching at the elbows and midsection when Nines crosses its arms. Stasis, for the first time since its exodus from CyberLife tower, sounds good. Helpful, even.

Stasis need looming, Nines watches the world pass by. Humans and androids congregate and separate in the night, the low vibrations of talking and cars and trains are heard and felt, and, in the face of it all, Nines feels insignificant. And small.

A thought keeps turning over in its head…

If Nines was created to be better than Connor…

How was it better than Connor?

* * *

The next morning, Nines tries a more “neutral face” at Connor’s behest. Who, now that he’s shown Nines everything and to everyone, is sitting at his desk and interfacing with the computer. Connor smiles when he sees Nines, eyes appearing warm, disconnecting from the computer to wave Nines to come closer.

**RK800 313 248 317 – 51 | I think that expression will help : )**

A private chat dings open in Nines HUD. It sighs as it crosses its arms, expression all but forgotten.

**RK800 313 248 317 - 51 | You don’t have to take my advice, you know.**

Connor messages as his own expression slides into one of muted annoyance. Nines does gain amusement from the sight, but it does not allow that fact to mold its face.

**RK900 313 972 101 - 01 | This is redundant and absurd. I thought you wanted me to appeal to humans more? Wouldn’t speaking aloud accomplish that?**

Connor sighs and shakes his head, turning away to interface with his computer once more. Expression a hard read. How annoying.

**RK800 313 248 317 - 51 | A note: stop calling them humans. It makes you sound like an alien.**

**RK900 313 972 101 - 01 | What am I to them if not an alien?**

Connor actually groans and rolls his eyes at that. Most certainly a genuine, uncalculated reaction. Exactly what Nines was hoping for.

Nines can’t stop its laughter, quick movements of its chest as its mouth hesitates to a grin, shaking its head throughout. Connor blinks, most certainly surprised. After two point one five seconds, when the look hasn’t faded from Nines’ face, Connor looks back to his work. Haughty with his shoulders square, back straight, and mouth pointed. 

**RK800 313 248 317 - 51 | You can change contact names, you know.**

Well, with an invitation like that…

**He, Him, His | That’s not funny.**

Maybe not to Connor, but Nines thinks it is. Nines holds its mouth closed, not letting loose any laughter. Connor’s eyes slide to Nines. Eyebrows framing his face curious. Perhaps hanging around the sort of people who were training for a high-risk career had changed its humor somewhat.

“Did I find anything humorous until recently?” Nines wondered, biting its lip. The answer came back with a quick and resounding “no.”

**Nonthreatening Negotiator | And neither is that.**

Connor messages, forming his posture to its previous position.

Heavy footfalls arrive behind Nines. It doesn’t turn around, Nines can tell from the look on Connor’s face that it’s the one human – person – that Connor couldn’t introduce yesterday. The man walks around Nines and to his desk, Nines’ proximity sensors dinging. He’d been staring at it, of that there is no doubt.

“Huh,” the man stops in front of Nines, eyes full of only amazement. No apprehension or anxiety or fear. The man was staring, though, and Nines…

Nines is glad it isn’t hooked up to that android lie detector.

Its processors crawl when its own grey eyes meet the man’s blue. Nines doesn’t drag its eyes over the man, instead it goes into its mind palace and pulls the sight back to see the whole of this man. Nines is taller, but only by about an inch and a half. And while Nines is more muscular in comparison to Connor’s thin frame, this man’s body is thick and imposing. Much larger than Connor and Nines put together. He’s dressed differently than everybody else; not in uniform or clothing that follows DPD dress code. Just jeans and a t-shirt that reads “MILLENNIAL AF” in thinning and splintering letters.

Nines knows its LED is circling yellow and fast, the man’s eyes dart to the color change, but are quick to meet Nines’ eyes again. That familiar and painful warmth slides through its chassis. Nines stifles a groan, hating what this most certainly means.

“Hey there,” the man extends his right hand, the movement swaying his silver hair. He brushes it from his eyes quickly with his left hand, “Name’s Hank.” Then Hank smiles, a gap showing between his front teeth. The corners of his eyes crinkling as the smile extends upwards.

A genuine smile.

Nines hopes it can tell the difference by now.

Allowing a slight grin, it takes Hank’s hand and… This handshake isn’t a test of strength. “Nines.”

There’s no stopping the smile that’s shifting its face.

* * *

“This isn’t smart.”

Nines creates that thought into a notification which is set to stack anytime Hank is in the near vicinity. Even going so far as to having the notes overlap Hank’s face at one point. It shouldn’t pay attention to Hank at all. Connor is the one who’s supposed to be helping Nines.

But…

Hank is extremely friendly. And knowledgeable. And very patient.

He jokes with it regularly, and Hank is quite funny. Nines will often catch itself repeating something Hank said without realizing it. Problem is, Nines only talks to Hank and Connor. Hank laughs it off, saying, “Hey! That’s my line!” Or a phrase equally as cute. Strangely, as it turns out, Connor has heard all of Hank’s jokes. Somehow.

**Unfunny Robot | Hank has told that joke many times. I think it’s a meme, so it’s not his to begin with.**

**Nines | You’re just envious.**

“Not the best time for this,” Nines thinks to itself as it scans the crime scene after Connor. Androids have been reported stolen – kidnapped – and sold for parts. There isn’t one base of operation, the DPD has come to find, just a constant flow of a group of three or more people taking and killing androids.

Connor’s face is hard as stone and cold as steel. A mixture of how he normally appears when at a crime scene and “dealing,” Connor’s words, with Nines. There’s a millisecond where Nines thinks Connor will drop it. But then, his eyes flick up and down with a yellow LED, a telltale sign that Connor wants to explain and over explain ad nauseam.

**DictionaryBot | Envy is resentment over something you’ll never have.**

Perhaps using its superior processing power to change Connor’s contact name before he notices is a waste of Nines’ talents.

**Nines | I’m aware.**

Judging by the look Connor is leveling Nines with, it feels worth it.

And, yes, Nines knows treating Connor like this is not fair. But, for some reason that Nines can’t explain, it enjoys teasing Connor. And it’s not something that Nines took from Hank, either. Hank acts differently around Connor. He’ll speak to Connor in a low, gruff voice. Hank puts his hand on Connor’s shoulder and leaves it there. Or, far less often, on the small of Connor’s back. Nines found out just a few days ago that they live together. It does feel… strange when Hank treats Connor that way. Or, conversely, when Connor looks at Hank with his brown eyes wide, his eyelashes leisurely fanning along his cheekbones. Nines has even detected Connor’s irises dilating when he looks at Hank. Hopefully it wasn’t a serious malfunction. Nines had been watching Connor carefully this past week and it doesn’t seem to be.

But Hank treats each person in the precinct differently, and the same is true for Connor. And, obviously, Nines itself is guilty as well.

That’s all it is.

Even now, with Connor’s eyes turning icy with his nostrils flaring, Nines knows it’s never seen Connor look at anyone this way. In truth, stupidly, Nines doesn’t want to fight. It just adores in finding Connor’s line and seeing just how far it’ll be allowed to push.

“Do you know how it began?”

“The Earth? Time? Humanity?”

Nines mentally kicks itself. These reactions have become automatic. Good thing it was just the two of them. Last time Detective Reed was within earshot. The man hasn’t stopped calling Connor “Butt Bot” ever since.

“With the evidence given,” Connor ignores Nines’ quip, but his tone has a stitch more snipe to it, “where did it all start?”

Nines physically bites its cheek before it notes that there are multiple kidnappers and… Mutilators? Butchers? Killers? Nines wants to ask but knows Connor might see it as a joke. Therefore, it isn’t so cut and dry. Connor was wandering around the scene for twenty-one minutes before bringing Nines inside. But, because of Nines’ mental acuity over Connor –

“I know what happened.”

“By all means,” Connor lets his ire seep further into his words, “tell me.”

Nines walks to the back door, “The group came through here. Two in the front and one in the back, who was dragging the android inside.” Into yet another dilapidated, unlivable home. “They dropped the android onto the kitchen floor.”

Connor follows Nines, hands deep in his dress pant pockets. As he tended to do when he was irritated. “What happened from there?”

Nines follows alongside the faded footprints, Connor two steps behind. “Two humans, the same two leading the other carrying the android if my calculations are correct, went through the living room and through the front door.” Nines steps outside, leaving enough room for Connor. It’s HUD beeps at Nines, showing an outline of a large and heavy object. “They stashed a toolbox behind what’s left of the porch fence. It was left here for quite some time.”

“The indentation in the dirt makes it at least two days.”

“Three to four, actually.”

Nines turns around and walks to the kitchen, responding to what Connor most likely will ask next, “The group believed the android to be dead or, at the very least, incapacitated. They’ve become sloppy, careless.” Nines watches the evidence tick alongside his HUD, compiling and evaluating the evidence from here and previous crime scenes. “They’ve done this before.”

“We’ll get to profiling last RK900.” Connor’s voice clipped. “Let us stick to the facts.”

“From the evidence here and the previous locations, this profile is more than adequate,” Nines wants to say.

Nines drops it, instead.

“Following the trail of thirium to the pool of blood, it appears the victim attacked the kidnapper.”

“What did the victim use?”

Nines knows but is built to double check. It peers across the kitchen, HUD beeping out each of the points of contact, then highlighting the reconstruction of events. “With the knife.” Next to the blood stains, lies a rusty and bloody steak knife. The evidence marker number four glows an eerie yellow over the corroded metal.

“Yes, that correlates with the evidence.”

Nines’ eyes linger on the pool of blood, long since dried and evaporated. It was a significant amount, but no bodies were found. “The other two must have heard the commotion.” Its eyes follow the blood stain on the wall, leading down. “The kidnapper sat here, bleeding out, until the other two grabbed them.”

“What happened to the victim?”

Nines begins to walk and talk, but Connor interrupts, a quick hand on Nines’ shoulder to stop it, “Apologies. What I mean is: why is there so much blood?”

Nines turns to face Connor, his hand falling away with his face reserved. “Conjecture after facts,” Nines wants to say. “It was defending itself,” it says instead.

Connor gives Nines “that look.” Nines sighs, “She was defending herself.”

“That is an awful lot of blood. This person could be dead.”

“Are you asking if the victim should or should not have fought back?”

“I’m asking about the amount of blood. What did the android do to her kidnapper?”

Was Connor being obtuse on purpose? What information did he want Nines to extrapolate from nothing? What was he trying to say?

Nines walks forward, ignoring the question. “The other two dragged the android into the bathroom, where they removed her thirium pump.” Nines’ voice tries to echo on the tiles, but they are long broken and covered in mold. Its voice trapped in its throat instead. In its chest. “Which is where police found her.”

It knows Connor is behind when red light bounces from the small pieces of unmarred tile. “They were interrupted, grabbed their accomplice to make their escape – yes. Why did you ignore my question?”

Connor tries his best to sound menacing, his voice playing off Nines’ back. When Nines turns to face Connor, they are nearly chest to chest. Nines wishes Connor was shorter. “How can you tell what the victim did to defend herself? How can you be so sure? Did you interview the dried blood when you came in first?”

His body doesn’t falter, but his eyes twitch. “I have social modules, while you do not.”

Nines scoffs, rolling its eyes up and away from Connor. The walls blinking red light from the both of them.

“You _can’t_ see the human element.” Connor moves to follow Nines’ eye line, “But I can.”

Nines inhales, about to fight back, when Hank’s footfalls come through the front door. Connor backs up, away from Nines to face the hallway entrance. Nines exhales, shoulders down and hands fidgeting, lacing and un-lacing its fingers.

“You two have been in here and awful long time,” Hank’s tone is playful. Past experiences indicate he’s inferring… something, but Nines has no idea what. It feels silly to ask when it seems obvious to everyone.

Like Connor, who says, “Hank!” between clenched teeth, as he uses the hand closest to Nines to grasp his opposite arm, half hugging himself. Connor is separating from Nines in any way he can. Nines’ thirium pump aches and it doesn’t know why.

“I guess I should say “hope it will” at this point.” Hank adds with a chuckle, no mind for the mood. “What’s going on?”

“Connor wants me to deduce data with no evidence.”

“I was showing Nines that _It_ – “

“Whoa.”

“— doesn’t have social programing, so _It_ – “

“Connor!”

“– either needs to learn or install –”

“I found the toolbox when you couldn’t.”

“And that indicates what?”

“Okay, guys—”

“You’re missing protocols as well.”

“That doesn’t mean –!”

“HEY!”

Nines and Connor back off. Nearly nose to nose not moments ago, now two feet apart and heads turned down. The room is thick with a pulsing hostility. Piercing quiet replaced the shouting, but their ears still ring with it. 

Hank sighs, hands on his hips. Nines has seen this look before; its only seen Hank use it when disciplining Reed. To have him use it for Nines… Its throat forms an immovable, hard lump.

“Jesus Christ, you two are acting like – like a couple a’ teenagers!” He takes a moment, eyes darting between the two, “Either hug it out or –“

“Hank this is not the time to be joking.”

Connor still isn’t facing Hank, his arms hugging his middle, but his voice is just as cold as before.

“Okay,” Hank says, dejected but sure. “Connor, leave.”

Nines can see Connor’s head jolt up without moving its own. Connor doesn’t say a word, staring at Hank for eight and a half seconds. No doubt upset. Nines, on the other hand, feels that familiar heat rising over its thirium pump. It blinks away any emotion that threatens to rise on its face.

“Lemme talk with Nines alone, okay?”

Connor exhales, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Alright.” Nines has never heard Connor use that word unless things were, well, all right. His tone with the word now was far from his usual jovial, but his anger was ebbing. Leaving that single word sounding… sad.

When Nines hears Connor’s footfalls recede past the porch steps, Hank’s shoulders fall as he sighs again. This time he steps closer to Nines, body language turning soft. Nines can’t help but look up, neck no longer bent.

Nines has the immediate and pressing desire to thank Hank for standing up for it. Choosing Nines. But before it has a chance to even open its mouth, Hank says, “I’m sorry about all that. Uh.” Hank’s head angles up, eyes thinning as he thinks. It doesn’t take long for Nines to miss his gaze. Whenever their eyes meet, Nines swears it’ll overheat. “Connor… he’s not normally like that… He’s a very forward-thinking guy, so.”

Nines lets its face fall confused, tilting its head a fraction. Then it dawns on, well, “ _It_.”

“He just let his anger get the best of him. You uh,” Hank chuckles, clasping a hand on Nines’ shoulder, jostling it a bit, “You know how to get him worked up real easy.”

His voice is low. His blue eyes sparkling with the help of Nines’ fluttering golden light. His hand feels so… so beautifully warm. Nines is extremely happy that it took off its high-collared and heavy plastic jacket before leaving. All the better to feel Hank with. The cotton black button-up making it easy to feel each thick, heavy finger.

It takes absolutely everything within Nines to not let the thirium, now fast in its veins, color its cheeks. But when Hank’s hand has been on its shoulder for more than five seconds, Nines questions whether it should let itself go.

Teetering on that precipice of a decision, Hank makes it for Nines by dropping his hand. Nines shoulders fall a centimeter before it stops itself.

Nines now knows that the look on Hank’s face means he’s waiting for a response. It inhales a bit before saying, “Connor wants me to choose.”

Hank rolls his eyes playfully. His mouth slightly separating as a chuckle escapes. The reaction… It’s happened a few times before this, but never so badly as right now. Nines wants to lean in and meet its lips with Hank’s. Just like the movies Reed pretends not to watch in the break room. Or on his phone.

“Just do what you need to do, son,” Hank’s smile reaches his eyes and Nines feels its knees threaten to give out. The deep rumble of the mans voice threatening to mow Nines over. “Do it on your own time, in your own way. Connor’s just…” Hank looks away a moment, his eyes darting back in seconds, “He worries about you. He talks about you at home all the time.”

That is. Very. Surprising.

Nines blinks five times in quick succession. Its eyes cinch as its brows draw down, head tilting.

Hank’s reaction is immediate. His face blooms bright red as a hand worries behind his neck, peering down. “Yeah, yeah. It’s… he… it’s just…” Hank licks his lips and Nines body reacts in a way it never has before. Heat pools just below its stomach compartment, pulse beating through the plating between its legs. Its eyes widen at the feeling but Hank still isn’t looking. “It’s just you’re studying for the police _and_ detective exam so… he’s worried – and I am too – that it’s, ya know, straining you.”

Nines takes a chance, takes a step forward. Hank’s blue eyes meet grey.

“There’s no use in all of this if it’s fuckin’ with you, ya know?” An eyebrow rises, causing Nines to feel worried too.

“I don’t…” It’s Nines’ turn to peer away, thinking of an answer, “I do not think I am in any way compromised. If anything, I relish what I have learned from you. And Connor.”

Hank’s heartrate slowly changes, calms. Nines isn’t sure what to make of it. Isn’t sure what it said to make Hank feel better. So Nines decides to continue. It’s nervous, though. It can’t stop its eyes from darting all over Hank’s face.

“You both make me feel like I’m… a person.”

“So, you don’t hate Connor?”

“Of course I don’t.”

“You just enjoy fuckin’ with him?”

Nines brows knit, thinking a moment. It’s true so, “Yes.”

“Teasing him, messin’ with him, makin’ him upset on purpose?”

“Why is he continuing on like this?” Nines wonders. “Yes,” it says.

“Nines…” Hank’s voice takes on a spirited, light cadence. Sing-songy. “You like him.”

“Of course I like Connor. I consider him a close friend.”

Hank laughs. His chest and stomach heaving. The sound turning hefty, rumbling and rutting through its body. And Hank just looks so. Hank Anderson is just. He is so beautiful.

Last night it imagined Hank’s thick body holding Nines, head pulling back so they could stare into one another’s eyes. Nines preconstructed the scenario with 98.2% accuracy on how Hank would feel, how he would breathe, how he would smell. All the while Nines just couldn’t stop watching Hank. Even in its own head, the man was indelibly gorgeous.

Hank’s laughter calms. When all that’s left is light breaths, Hank says, “No, Nines, no.”

Nines lets confusion on its face, “Then I’m not sure of your meaning, Hank.”

“You’ve got a crush on Connor.”

Head tilt ten degrees. Yellow light forming red. As Nines looks up Hank’s meaning.

It. No. That isn’t. That’s the wrong.

It’s not _Connor_.

Nines takes a step back. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Hank’s eyes glide across Nines’ cheeks.

Oh. It didn’t. It forgot. There was.

Hank’s eyes light up, no doubt thinking he’s correct. He isn’t, of course!, but Nines doesn’t know how to explain to Hank how wrong he is. Nines isn’t yet sure if Hank feels the same way. It doesn’t want a repeat of… Nines never wants to feel what it felt at CyberLife tower ever again.

“You don’t enjoy pulling Connor’s pigtails?”

While searching that phrase yields confusing results, Nines thinks it knows Hank’s meaning. But it lies. “I don’t understand.”

“Sometimes…” Hank starts, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning backwards a few degrees, “you tease someone ‘cause you don’t want them to know you like them.”

“Is that… normal?” Nines hears its voice wavering. It can’t stop it. This whole thing is. So. Incredibly. Baffling.

“Well, no.” Hank’s hair sways as he shakes his head, “Hopefully you grow out of it when you’re a kid. It’s like… playground antics, you know? Too scared for someone to find out so they push their crush away. Get mean.” 

It keeps beginning to talk, opening its mouth, but stops, closing its mouth. Forming no clear thoughts. Sentences abandoned. Nines’ words are as fractured as its insides are.

“Look,” Hank holds out a hand, telling Nines to “hush.” “You don’t have to tell me anything, kid. I simply wanted to point out that if you’re interested in someone, well, there’s better ways to go about that.”

The hallway is stained in red light as Nines tries to piece together what to do. What to say. How to say it.

And then, fear overtakes it.

Does Hank know?

He has never, not once, looked at Nines the way the others do. Hank looks at Nines and treats Nines and talks to Nines as if it’s a person. And it feels so wonderful to be seen by him. To be known by him. Having such kindness shown to Nines.

Hank clasps a hand on its shoulder again, eyes kind, “Meet you at the station, okay?”

Nines only registers that Hank walked away when it hears, “Just think about it, okay?” from the front door.

His footsteps pound their way down the stairs, rattling the biocomponents inside its head.

**…**

Nines is in the evidence lockup an hour later. No one around except itself and the victim. Scanning and re-scanning the android and her various parts. Data it already knows lights up next to her pieces:  
An AP700. Registered under the name Camille. Her previous owners and their address. Her activation date and time of death.

As Nines scans the thirium stains, the parts of her they left behind – her right arm and her left leg -- and her beaten beyond human-recognition face, Nines finds nothing new. Not that it had new information. Nines felt the need to do something. Keep its mind occupied. Keep away from Hank. And especially Connor.

More than anything, though, Nines wants to be alone.

“We’d like to be alone.”

The memory of that day plays, overriding its current sight and sounds, unbidden and frightening to behold.

Connor guides the owners to an interrogation room. Connor messaged Nines to watch, but only to come once they were all inside. Nines stands when it hears the door click closed, walking to the hallway to find Reed and Chen in front of the one-way mirror. Nines steps back from the others. After all, it has the benefit of zooming in its sight. Also. Nines doesn’t want the others asking it questions. Or saying something it might not understand. 

Main question out the gate: When was the last time they saw her? The couple says they released her at the end of November, just when the revolution was reaching its climax. They explain that they were afraid of turning her in. So, they state simply and without fear, now that androids are legally people, that they gave her money and supplies and let her go. They spoke adamantly, their arms pressed against each other. Where one began, the other would finish. They sound uncertain, a tad divisive, they keep asking why they are here.

Connor asks the next question, instead: Have they been in contact with Camille lately? They say they assumed the worst. That word left unspoken. Dead.

But when Connor tells them the news, they cry. Break down as if it’s their first time thinking of it. No. Their first time hearing it. The man and woman hold one another. His thumb running circles on her arm. Her hand on his chest. Her face in the crook of his neck.

Reed is doubtful, his arms crossed and his face pinched. Chen sports an ever-present gleam in her eye. Miller had walked over to see the “commotion” but left quickly to do “something else,” his voice wavering his words. Nines stood there, watching the couple, not knowing how to feel. 

No. That’s a lie; it just doesn’t know how to show its feelings. Nines had been blocking them for so long. Stuffing them down and away from everyone. Now this feels empty. Watching this couple felt empty.

Three minutes later, the man turns his head to Connor, his glasses glinting off the one-way mirror, and says, “We’d like to be alone.”

But, upsettingly, they couldn’t be alone. Not just yet. Connor explains that they need to identify her body. It’s standard procedure.

If she were a human.

After the next bill Warren signed, naming humans and androids as equals, Fowler decided to treat android victims and android suspects the same as humans. The bills were flimsy, quick, nothing attached to explain what to do on the law or law enforcement end of things. Considering what they had to work with, Fowlers idea seemed a smart decision. The problem is that not everyone agrees. Or knows how to treat the two species the same. Or even similar.

So when the technician pulls back the sheet to show her face, against Fowler’s direct orders, the couple is breath-taken, stunned.

Nines knows they _should_ only show parts of the victim’s body that weren’t damaged beyond all repair. Best not to distract with gore when a positive ID is on the line. But that’s the trouble with androids. No birthmarks. No tattoos. No scars. While there are five different versions of the AP700, Camille shared a face and body and skin and eyes and hair with a sizeable portion of the android population.

But the couple knew. Somehow. The man leans his head on the glass separating them as the woman falls to the floor, sobbing.

“Well,” Reed began as he walked towards the break room, “They were definitely fucking it.”

Chen shushes him, beating a fist hard enough to bruise against his bicep as she turned to sit at her desk. Nines stayed, peripheral to the couple, watching them.

Why were they so attached to the android? They didn’t have children; did they consider her a child? Or, was it as Reed said? Did the couple have a relationship with the android? 

While Nines loved a human, more than once, the idea of more than one partner never entered its mind. Until now.

Connor lifts his hand and the technician replaces the sheet. He says, “Come back to the room with me,” as he helps the woman up. The man wipes his tears away, jostling his glasses, watching his wife rise to her feet. He takes her hand once she’s standing. They follow Connor, solemn.

No noise echoes in the hallway, the bullpen is silent. The precinct still. Quiet. 

Connor ushers the couple in the room and shuts the door. He turns a heel, approaching Nines, his face serious. Nines meets his eyes as Connor places a hand on its shoulder. Connor’s face shifts to worry the longer their eyes linger.

**Nines | I feel empty.**

Connor’s eyes soften, sending a shock along Nines’ chassis.

**Connor | Don’t give yourself so little credit, Nines. I think there’s too much for you to process. You’ve never seen anything like this before.**

At the time, Nines let its face pinch. Upset because it felt Connor was dismissing it again.

Now that Nines watched the memory back…

Nines swallows, its throat dry.

There is no way Hank is right.

**…**

The hiatus doesn’t last.

While there is nothing more that can be done today, Nines can’t leave. It needs the hours for its time sheet. Nines may be a “special circumstance,” but it seems that androids are now beholden to the same bureaucracy as humans. No matter what strings Connor, Hank, or Fowler tried to pull. At least being in the precinct was essentially skipping a step. Well, more like half a step – Nines still needed to take the tests.

Nines kept its notepad and pencils in Connor’s desk. As Connor was currently out, completing tasks Nines wasn’t allowed to shadow just yet, it sat in Connor’s desk and drew. After the extremely draining and terribly strange day it had, the sounds of lead against paper ground Nines. Only thinking of circles. Tiny rings that touch and repeat. The light blue and pink lines all but disappear in the sea of bubbles. 

Its sensors indicate someone is approaching Connor’s desk. It doesn’t look up. The constant _scritch scritch scritch_ of circles continue, its body folded forward over the page with its right elbow on the desk. Nines hopes whoever is arriving will take the obvious cue and leave.

Nines doesn’t appear to have much by way of luck.

“What’re you doing?” Reed actually sounds sincere for a second, so Nines is unsurprised when he adds, “Must be boring being a tin can and all, but…"

“I’m not bored.” Nines says without lifting its head, eyes still pointed directly over the page.

“You know, if you were a human you wouldn’t be able to sit like that for long.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“I mean, everyone already sees you as Frankenstein’s monster or whatever. All too chicken shit to talk to you.” That didn’t surprise Nines at all, but it stung nonetheless, “You don’t help yourself much.”

Nines tilts its head up and props it on its right hand, setting the pencil down. “Are you, of all people, suggesting how to be approachable?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Reed scoffs, his hands in the jacket pockets move the material away from his body and back to it. Opening and closing. A constant fan of fabric. Reed does this motion often. Nines doesn’t care to deduce why. Or why he wears jackets even when it’s warm outside. “Well maybe I know but I just don’t care.”

Nines lifts an eyebrow, not hiding how unimpressed it is. “Well maybe I don’t know.”

They stare at each other for a few seconds. Nines’ head propped on its hand, while Gavin continues his strange motions. He stops after three point one seconds to ask, “Do you care?”

Nines shrugs a shoulder.

Gavin, for a reason that Nines can’t figure out, sees that as an invitation and takes a step closer. “I’ve never seen a ‘droid just like… doodle before.”

Nines blinks, looks it up. Surprised to find that it is an accurate word for its actions. It doesn’t say anything to that.

“How’d you even start?”

Nines pushes some air out its nose, grin forming. “Why do you want to know?”

Gavin tsks, “I don’ know! Just asking. That a crime?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m not a cop yet.”

With a snort, Gavin says, “Hey, good point.”

“To answer your question, but only because I have nothing better to do,” Nines sits up, straightens out its back to lean against the chair, “Some of my police academy colleagues gifted these to me.”

Gavin’s eyes thin, his bottom lip curling in his mouth comically, “Okay…” He doesn’t move, as much as a human is able anyway, for two point eight seconds. “But, like, why?”

“I borrowed some supplies from the group. The teacher didn’t want us using tablets or laptops because he said it inspired cheating.”

“But you’re, like, a big tablet.”

Nines shrugs a shoulder, mirth growing on its face, in its eyes. “Something for other androids to figure out down the road.”

Gavin snorts again, looking away then back to Nines, fidgeting in his jacket pockets all the while.

What a peculiar man.

“Perhaps because I’m an android or because I was bored, I began to draw in the margins of the pages.” Nines’ eyes point down, back to the pencil as it runs its thumb across the top of the lead. “As I didn’t write anything down and it was still usable, I decided to give it back to the owner.”

“You kept the pencil though.”

Nines chuckles, “You’re right.” Its eyes flit up to Gavin, thumb worrying the lead still, “They gifted me a new notepad the next day.”

““They” a person or “they” the whole class?”

“I have a feeling it was technically one person, but they happily allowed the others to say it was from them as well.”

Gavin’s mouth screws up, his eyebrows furrowing. His face shapes into confusion just before he speaks, “So they liked you?”

Nines doesn’t know where that question will lead, and it especially doesn’t know what it means, but Nines answers despite this, “Seems they did, yes.”

A squeaking rises to their ears as Gavin slides his foot back and forth, rubber soles crying at the grating motions. Gavin doesn’t seem to notice. “What’d you do different then?”

Nines is… taken aback. Its expression certainly shifts, skipping to shock complete with red LED without Nines’ input. Gavin’s eyebrows fly up at the sight. “It’s a good question,” Nines is begrudging itself for having the thought. “I’m not sure,” Nines says, voice startlingly soft.

Gavin hums, face angled to the right as he bites his lip. Nines takes the pause in conversation to watch Gavin. Up until this exact point in time, the man had constantly made fun of Connor and ignored Nines. Over time, especially after the “Butt Bot” incident, Gavin started staring at Nines. Watching it instead of playing on his phone, like usual.

“Okay, listen,” his nasally voice pronounced, “this is probably shitty to say, but Connor was fine ‘cause he’s overly nice.” Gavin nods at his own words, lips pursing.

“What does “nice” entail?”

Gavin shrugs, looking away and shaking his head, “He like… got people coffee and helped even when nobody asked for it.”

“That sounds rude.”

“It’s all about how you do it, tin can.”

“How does Connor do it?”

“He isn’t creepy. He just kinda…” Gavin wiggles his shoulders.

Nines watches the motions, confused further. “What?”

“He figures out what people like,” his sentence rushes out, all at once. Nines has learned that quality of voice means whatever was said is supposed to be obvious.

“I apologize, but I don’t understand.”

“Wow you really don’t got any social programs, huh?” Another stinging comment draws air into its lungs. Gavin doesn’t notice. Or, most like, he doesn’t care. He moves his head all the way right, then all the way left, then leans forward with his voice hushed, “He watches people and figures out what they like. Does that stuff for ‘em, gives ‘em gifts. It worked _real_ well on Anderson. But that’s… different.” Gavin waggles his eyebrows, but continues, leaning even closer, “Connor’s fucking the guy in charge. If that’s not as psycho as everything else he does, I don’ know what is.”

Notifications and errors weigh Nines down in a millisecond. It feels like its stomach compartment was ripped out then dropped to the floor. Nines is also left wrapping its brain around the fact that Gavin sees through Connor’s façade as well. The knowledge of both. It. Hurts.

It’s eyes sting.

“Hey you okay, plastic?” Gavin points to Nines’ temple, “Doesn’t red mean bad or something?”

“Or something.” Nines says without thinking.

Nines is saved by Fowler, advising Reed in a tone of annoyance and acrimony to get back to work. When the glass door wobbles and slams, Gavin sighs as he takes a few steps backwards. Eventually, Reed turns around to end up at his own desk. Leaving Nines to piece together. Everything.

* * *

Eight days pass.

Nines still isn’t comfortable showing its emotions, but it does decide to stop teasing Connor. Unless it’s obvious. Playful. It had been watching how Hank treats everyone besides Connor and Reed to figure it out. It’s been successful so far.

Luckily – or unlucky, Nines isn’t sure – its alone with Hank.

There was news of an android part selling scheme. After scanning an arm that had been left behind in their previous location, they came to the conclusion that the kidnappers and the people behind the illegal parts storefront were one and the same.

“We’re closer than I would like.”

“What?”

Nines turns to Hank and explains, “I can see clearly from long distances. Much better than a person with 20/20 vision.”

Hank chuckles. Turning his eye line to the potential storefront.

“I have a zoom feature.”

Hank snorts as he uses a hand to stifle a loud laugh. “Sorry, sorry.” But Hank doesn’t change his eye line. Hasn’t responded to its suggestion.

Nines stares at Hank. Unblinking. Its fingers drumming against its leg.

After two point nine seconds, Hank sighs, wrapping his hands around the steering wheel and turning to Nines, “Humans are just plain not that perceptive, Nines.” Hank’s thumbnails click along the grooves of the rubber, his eyes darting to the storefront, “But I’m sure you worked that out by now.”

“Yes.” Nines says as its hand fidgets in its lap, steepling its fingers and meeting its palms.

“Are you nervous or something?” Hank asks after ten minutes and twenty-six seconds.

Nines is having trouble keeping still the longer its in the car. Every piece of Hank is setting it off.

His voice speaks soft; they need to keep quiet. The vibrations move through Nines as if Hank was speaking clearly, at his normal volume. Nines could hear Hank talk all day and never tire of the sensations it brings. 

When his hands grip and slacken on the steering wheel, Nines watches his forearms move. His hands, when he flattens them on his thighs, are large and calloused and Nines wonders what they’ll feel like on its body. 

And those thighs. So thick. Nines can’t tell if it’s from muscle or fat or a combination. No matter what the cause, Nines wants to grab at his thighs. Drag its hands up to Hank’s burly chest, settling on his shoulders. Gazing into those ocean blue eyes.

Its pulse picks up between its legs, pumping thirium against the plating. Nines is dizzy. Wants more. Can’t get enough. 

“I’m pretty good at reading people.” Hank’s tone is warning, but helpful.

No. This needs to stop. “I do not have on-board social programming.”

Nines watches Hank’s eyebrows crease up in its peripheral vision. They both need to continue to watch the storefront. Nines can’t afford a distraction. Not in front of its Lieutenant.

“So you don’t feel anything? No emotions at all?”

That’s most certainly incorrect – that beautiful fuzzy feeling is still flowing between its legs, after all – but Nines surmises that Hank is making a point. Nines doesn’t speak.

“Then why you all… fidget-y? What are you feeling right now?”

Nines is overwhelmed with possibilities.

It could lie. Cite anything else in the world as a reason. Smother its movements until something happens in their stakeout. Never tell Hank of its attraction so it never has to feel that pain again.

Another option brings another question. What if Hank feels the same? What if he’ll only act if Nines is up front? Connor had spoken of humans being a very straightforward species. From what Nines had witnessed since activation, that was certainly a sound conclusion. 

A third option, similar to the second: Tell Hank. No matter if he shares Nines feelings or… otherwise, at least Nines would know and could move on with its life.

That warmth it’s beginning to despise descending along its body. As the feeling moves, it brings a sort of sickness. A tangible reaction to how nervous and scared and horrified and hopeless it feels.

Nines takes a deep breath in. It does nothing to mitigate the monstrous dread that hangs in and on every iota of its body.

What to say. How to say it. When to say it. Now. Just say it now. Just tell him now and get it over with.

It has learned at least one thing about people since arriving at the DPD: No matter what it is or how badly you may want it, **never** come on too strong. According to Nines’ data, it has a 78.12% chance of sending them into flight mode.

“Hank,” Nines says, voice faltering already, “I’m.”

Failing.

It feels like crawling into a hole and shutting down.

Its throat is heavy and immovable and dry and clogged with sticky thirium spit.

Its pump is beating so fast. If Hank listens closely, there’s a possibility that he could hear it.

Might as well quit. Leave the car and leave the precinct. Or, not so permanent, Nines could say, “Never mind.”

No.

It physically shakes its head.

Just.

Say it.

“I’m attracted to you.”

**~ ### ~**

Hank considered himself a betting man.

Many have told him that he’s shit at it, but that’s fine. It was just for fun. Just something to do to pass the time or waste a bit of money. Not that he’d been betting all that much since he’d started dating Connor.

But Hank would never, not ever, ever ever ever, bet that Nines would _ever_ say what he just said.

Only three days after Connor had met Nines, Hank could tell his boyfriend was smitten with the RK900. When Hank pointed this out at home, whether in a casual kind of company of just the two of them on the couch or while going down on Connor in bed, his boyfriend would deny it. The android’s absolutely everything betrayed him, though. He’d get all tongue-tied and flustered. His cheeks would turn a pretty violet, with light blue around the edges near his eyes. He couldn’t look at Hank and would hide in whatever way he could.

When serious, Hank simply told Connor to be careful. Hank didn’t think Nines was even capable of feeling anything like that. The guy seemed asexual. Nothing wrong with that, of course. But Connor was very affectionate. And, Hank had been equal parts surprised and ecstatic to find, super sexual. Nobody who’d ever met Connor or ever saw Connor from half a mile away would believe Hank, but it was true. Not like Connor was a love ‘em and leave ‘em type of guy but… Hank just didn’t want to see his boyfriend hurt. And, so far, even though things had gotten a tad bit calmer, Nines had only hurt Connor.

There was that moment right after their screaming match, when Hank thought that maybe Nines _did_ like Connor like that. But then it all fell apart. Nines had been talking to Connor, yes, but little else. Connor lamented on the couch a few days ago that it was better to be… what did he say? “Regarded with hate than with nothing at all.” Something like that.

All Hank can do now is sit here and watch the building ahead of them. Try not to overreact because it would most likely come across as mean.

But if Hank hadn’t been thrown for such a goddamn loop!

And maybe… Fuck. Maybe if things weren’t so new between him and Connor... Hank might bring up the fact that he’d been in polyamorous relationships. It was actually a family meme that Hank ended up in a straight, monogamous relationship. Back when he still talked to his family and before –

Hank automatically moves his head – that thing that happens because someone’s staring. Hank looks at Nines, really takes a damn good look because, apparently, he hadn’t really seen the guy. And, um, wow. It was like a dam broke.

His face was open, so unlike the expression he normally leaned on, but so very fucking scared. It twisted Hank’s heart to see. And those eyes. They began flickering between Hank’s eyes and lips and oh fuck. Hank hadn’t even accounted for this. Jesus. There was absolutely no mistaking Nines’ “please fuck me” eyes. That sent a jolt through Hank that he hated.

Not that he wasn’t… so very and incredibly attracted to Nines. And, shit, it wasn’t just that he was a looker. Hank did care about him. A lot! It’s the only reason why Hank noticed that Connor had a crush on Nines. Because he’d been staring too. Enjoying his company and his super dry, witty quips. Where Connor was ultra nice and happy-go-lucky, Nines was the complete opposite. It just really showcased how different androids could be now that they’re all deviant.

But maybe all that didn’t matter. The long and short of it is that Nines doesn’t know… enough.

He’s still so new to the world. He probably needs to get out and try things. Not pine after a grody old man and his robot boyfriend. 

So that’s it then.

Hank didn’t want to lie and say he wasn’t interested in Nines, or spill that Connor was interested on accident. He instead said, “I’m sorry Nines, but I’m with Connor.”

Hopefully that wouldn’t hurt him too much.

**~ ### ~**

It was comical. Wasn’t it? Nines kept missing the mark. Messing with things it didn’t understand.

Nines laughs. Or, rather, lets air come out its mouth in quick bursts. It looks away, back to why they were here in the first place.

“I’m really sorry, Nines.” Hank says again.

Nines doesn’t look over. Doesn’t say anything. It takes everything within it to not react.

Don’t let tears fall. Don’t cry. Just. Don’t.

“I, uh, know I’m probably the only human who’s not scared of you but.” Hank finally moves his eyes away from Nines. It feels better to not be in the spotlight. Somewhat. “You shouldn’t want to be with me just because I treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

Hank gets a call twenty minutes and fifty-six seconds later. He’s needed somewhere, “as long as you haven’t seen anything,” Nines hears Fowler say.

“No movement in or out, boss.”

“Hopefully it’s not a shit lead.” Fowler grumbles into the phone.

Nines doesn’t listen after that.

Hopefully Hank is right, and humans weren’t as perceptive as it previously thought. Its LEDs red light, blinking blinking blinking, might be a dead giveaway.

Nines also hopes Hank doesn’t see the tears welling in its eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im [goldenganjj](https://twitter.com/goldenganjj) on twitter


	3. Tina Chen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know police stuff. 
> 
> I’m just a man trying his best.

The night is not over.

Hank dropped Nines off at the precinct before he heads off with Fowler. Nines doesn’t bother to ask Hank what’s going on. It isn’t even curious.

On the way here, Nines thought that being away from Hank would make tamping down its emotions easier. But, so far, it didn’t seem to matter either way.

It tries to focus elsewhere. The hum of the nearby computer towers. The idle chatting of coworkers and civilians. Collins typing up a report as Miller, craning over the desk to get a better view of the screen, explains details on a case. Overall, quite normal for 11 pm on a Tuesday.

After sitting for fifteen minutes, still and silent and most likely disconcerting, Nines finally moves its hand to interface with Connor’s computer. It needs to file reports. Hank told it so when Nines was exiting his car.

Thinking of Hank again, even in that capacity…

It only needed to last an hour. Then it could go home and let itself be upset. Luckily, for certain this time, no one spoke to it besides Connor and Hank. Nines would be alone until it was time to leave.

After the second report of seven is complete, Nines can’t concentrate any longer. It disconnects, watching the cursor appear onscreen, blink blink blinking. Its eyes linger on the spot, until Connor walks into the bullpen. And, of course, he’s headed straight for Nines and – why wouldn’t he be? – this is his desk.

A question flashes in Nines’ mind: should it be upset at Connor? It hung on that question, examining it and reexamining it, until Connor is a foot away from the desk. But, even now, as its struggling to stifle its feelings, Nines cannot bring itself to do so.

Neither can Nines stop itself from staring at Connor. Lately, Nines regarded Connor with either meetings of their eyes only or it did its best to not look at Connor at all. But. Now. He looks… Even though androids can’t feel temperature in the same manner as humans, Connor tended to coordinate his wardrobe to the weather. Nines often found itself wondering if it was for Hank’s benefit or completely Connor’s creation. As it was a bit cooler this time of night, Connor had a thin blue sweater on, the white collar of the dress shirt draped over the garments neck.

“He looks cute,” Nines thinks, delirious from the day. Obviously.

“Nines,” and then its eyes reach up to Connor’s face, who is currently flattening Nines with the most concerned look it has ever seen in its short life. His voice carried the worry as well, “You look upset.”

Wait. What? “How?”

Connor deems that to be a rhetorical question, and asks, “Are you okay?”

Nines. Really. Isn’t. And it now has the overwhelmingly heated and violent need to talk to someone about tonight.

“You know that you can tell me anything.”

Miller stands, cracks his back with a few grunts. He’s trying to hide it, but Nines can plainly see his staring.

Nines. Has a choice to make. It thinks on the matter a moment, attempting to weigh out the pros and cons. But its precontruction suite is glitch-y, saying it needs to be recalibrated in stasis. As if having emotions wasn’t bad enough…

“Nines?”

Nines? Had been keeping its distance from Connor. The audio of their fight would replay at their proximity. Although that did cease three days back. Nines attributed the change to its attempts at playful, verbal sparring with Connor. But, now that Nines thought on it, Connor wasn’t receptive. At least, not in the same way as when Hank does it.

Well. That settles it then. Nines needs to learn from its mistakes. Not continuously make the same one and expect different results. Connor wasn’t getting the hint, that much was obvious now, and it was a failing of Nines and not Connor.

“I apologize for my behavior recently.”

Nines tries a smile.

It must mean or do something for Connor because his eyes go wide.

“It has been a… challenge to find myself and my place in the world. I fear I have taken it out on you.”

Connor blinks. He turns his head away, but it does not hide his watery eyes. A tear collects and falls down his face, the color of dusty blue. The sight stings.

“I am very sorry, Connor.”

Miller makes a noise as Collins hits his arm. He turns back to work just as Connor is wiping the tear and replacing it with a smile.

“I really missed talking with you.” Connor says, his pupils shrink and magnify when their eyes meet. Nines… really needs to bring that up the next time it happens. Now isn’t optimal.

Nines laughs, a quick “ha!” before it asks, “Seriously?”

Connor’s grin slides sly before he says, “Well, some of the time.”

“Figures.” Nines leans back in its seat, disconnecting from the computer. Relief relaxes it in rivulets streaming down its body. Nines nearly forgets that Connor shouldn’t be here right now. It tells him as much, “You’re off tonight.”

Connor lips move prematurely. He closes them. Then, he smiles. And it’s infectious. “I am, yes.” Connor darts his eyes to Nines’ chest then back to its eyes, “I was wondering if we could, hm, hang out?” The last words sound strange off Connor’s tongue. The phrase far better suited from someone like –

“I can take the bus with you to your apartment.”

Perhaps if Nines was fully attuned with itself, it would say no. Now, with its mind in a jumble and its thirium pump permanently aching, Nines can’t think of a reason to say no.

**…**

There’s nothing to sit on. And why would there be? Nines never expected to have visitors, and it never expected to entertain a guest. It certainly never imagined Connor would even want to visit.

Connor points out that they’re androids as he sits cross-legged on the floor. Not caring for comfort. Nines follows suit, sitting close to Connor, opting to lean against the wall and have its feet out in front.

“It is nice, sometimes.”

Connor hums in question, complete with a head tilt. Nines had caught him just after he removed his sweater. His hair is sticking up at multiple points. Nines tries its best not to look. Connor folds then sets the sweater down before he asks, “What do you mean?”

“Being comfortable.” Nines looks up and to the left, out the window. An ink sky with no points; the city is too bright. “There is something to it. Something… inexplicably nice.”

“Perhaps you feel that way because your model is outfitted with those high-collared monstrosities.”

“Ha ha.” Nines deadpans. Its eyes dart to Connor, head still pointed away, and gives its companion a friendly grin.

Connor smiles in response, his eyes dart away. His cheeks appear to turn pink. It’s difficult to tell, though. The room isn’t well lit. “You’re right, Nines.” Connor’s voice twinkles, replacing an unseen star. “It is nice.”

Silence falls between them. But, like the black blank canvas night, Nines finds it comfortable. Familiar.

Four minutes of quiet pass before Connor fixes his hair and Nines toes off its shoes. Connor watches its motions, hand absentmindedly landing on his folded sweater, his fingers fiddling with the fabric tag. “So, what’s happening with you, Nines?”

Nines notes his serious sounding sentence but isn’t sure how to start.

“We could interface,” Connor says delicately, then adds, “If you’d like.”

Oh.

That’s really not.

No.

“I don’t…” Nines swallows, “feel comfortable with that.”

“All right,” Connor says, his tone the opposite.

“I just.” That pain enters its body again. This time there’s no way Hank is the cause. “I need to analyze my findings on my own.” Flimsy excuse.

“I understand.”

Those words draw its eyes to Connor. He’s sporting a small smile. It’s clearly fake, but perhaps it’s the thought that counts.

“I _am_ willing to talk.”

Connor’s shoulders fall as his mouth does. He saves his eyes from going wide by blinking.

“If you are willing to listen.”

“Of course!” Connor says, his back standing stick straight.

Nines tells Connor of its awakening at CyberLife tower. About Imani. How Nines fell in love with her, how she told Nines about Connor, and that it decided to go into the police academy based on her glowing review of the RK800 who helped turn the tide of the android revolution.

At various points in its story, Connor is schooling his expressions. It’s most apparent when Nines speaks about love, strangely enough. But Connor listens. He’s attentive. Patient.

At first, it’s a whole-body fright to be open, sharing this much of itself. Nines isn’t sure where along its story that feeling changed. Now it’s… cathartic. Nines has never told anyone about life before the police academy. It feels. Nice. To be heard. To be listened to like this. 

But then the story arrives at the present.

Nines makes a concerted effort to skirt around who it is referring. Going so far as to tell Connor that it’s better he doesn’t know. That it doesn’t want Connor to think any less of this person when, ultimately, they did nothing wrong.

Recounting events that happened only hours ago digs into a wound that had no time to heal. Nines doesn’t reveal how recent these events are, of course. Nines acts as if this happened further in the past to cover its tracks. But lying like this? It feels comparable to when it was in Hank’s car. Thirium pump racing to nowhere, throat and stomach compartment stiff and weighted, with waves of each negative emotion washing over its body.

Then, it stops. No more to tell. Nines closes its mouth and leans its head back on the wall, staring up at the spider-web cracked ceiling.

“Can I… say something, Nines?”

“Please.” And Nines means it. Uncertain of what he could have in mind, but not worried in the slightest.

“Perhaps – and forgive me if I am overstepping – you felt… infatuation. Or lust.”

Nines should worry about what Connor says more often.

Meeting Connor’s gaze brings a shock to its system. Connor’s eyes are bright, and very wet. It looked away at most a minute. Was he appealing to Nines’ sad situation? Fake tears falling from a failed attempt at a person? Even the thought that Connor _could_ be manipulating it… Nines has no numbers to tell it how likely that is to be true. Connor’s the one with the social capabilities. He would be able to tell if he was being manipulated with a higher accuracy than any human. But that’s not something it was built with – Nines is less than Connor.

“No,” it shakes its head, letting its voice and face dip into anger, “That’s not right.” Its insides shudder. It inhales. That makes it worse. “You don’t know what it felt like. You don’t know how I feel.”

“I’m not saying you weren’t hurt – of course you were. I can see that.” Connor’s wringing his hands. His eyes glassy with tacked on concern. “But what you described? That isn’t love. Love takes time. It may form into love if both parties –”

“Connor.” Nines interrupts.

It doesn’t want to be upset. Or, in this case, even more upset that it already was. This isn’t helpful. This isn’t productive to be this angry. Nines tries what it knows, breathing in and out slow, hoping for a calming effect. The anger abates, but it brings back tears. How disappointing.

“I can see that you want to help, but.” That shudder overtakes it again and it gets harder to fight the feelings and not let them fall. “It doesn’t feel good to hear you say that.”

“I…” Connor starts. Lets the word go. He looks away, Nines does as well.

A car rattles by; not self-driving by the sounds of it. A shout from a downstairs occupant, a cat meows two rooms away, a television plays the Netflix sting then leads to the “Parks and Rec” theme next door, and Nines just wants to go into stasis.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Connor says slow. He sounds sincere. So that’s something. “You… you put a lot of care into those you care about.”

“What are you? A fortune cookie?” Nines hisses immediately afterwards, back of its head hitting the wall. It looks over and is surprised to find Connor grinning. It’s bordering on mirthless, but his eyes sparkle with that foolish look of near permanent optimism Nines can never imitate. Its shoulders fall.

“I do not know whether it was designed into you or you gained it from deviancy but, you are very… snarky.”

Nines blinks at that assessment.

“Aloof… might be the better word.”

Nines digests that words meaning. Why humans take one look at Connor to trust him and look at Nines only to avert their eyes. Perhaps this should be a point of contention, but it’s neither of their fault. It’s just how they were programmed. They didn’t choose this life. Not really.

“Nines,” Connor sounds nervous again, Nines does its best not to sigh or roll its eyes, “Are you afraid to show your emotions?”

Nines turns its upper body to see Connor better. The tips of his thumbs circle each other and he’s looking anywhere but at Nines.

“Yes, you’ve had terrible experiences…” Connor inhales, his brows knit. He’s really thinking on this. “I’ve found, when it comes to life, bad things tend to happen. Good things happen too! But, as far as I’ve both seen and experienced, they don’t happen as often as you’d hope. The bad can shape you, but please never let it change you.”

Nines pushes a few puffs of air its nose, “More fortune cookie lines?”

“Nines.” Connor looks up, his eyes are shiny and Nines. Feels like a fool.

At least he doesn’t appear angry. Just hurt. Not that that’s a good thing. Or helps Nines feel better.

“Please.”

It feels entirely and wholly and completely wrong to even think of denying his plea.

Nines nods, agreeing. Gives Connor a little grin. It’s immediately afraid it might not look right, but Connor gives a watery smile and a little laugh.

That warmth slides along its chassis. Familiar and pleasant and –

Nines really needs to go into stasis.

* * *

It wasn’t an android part selling scheme. Or, if it was before, it isn’t now. The pop-ups of ill repute were an android slavery ring. Which, as of just last night, also began selling the stolen androids’ thirium to red ice dealers. The seedy parts of Detroit’s population are getting creative now that thirium isn’t legally a commodity but a vital part of a sentient being.

May 11th, 2039 at 8:49 pm this wasn’t definitive. However, on May 11th, 2039 at 8:50 pm, Detective Gavin Reed stormed into the building because he thought it empty.

It wasn’t.

Two bodyguard model androids were posted inside the building. A fact they could have found if they had time to properly canvas the area before the detective went in “guns a-blazing,” as Hank phrased it. A rather unfortunate turn of phrase considering the androids got to Reed before he could fire a shot. Reed sustained multiple fractures, two broken bones (a rib and his clavicle), and a concussion.

This stupid turn of events didn’t bring only bad news, though. The building was already surrounded and in surveillance, so when Reed kicked down the door the people inside ran right into waiting police. Therefore, according to Hank, it was easy to “round them up” and “book ‘em.” He did regale to those in the bullpen who weren’t present for the events, that it was “a shitshow of epic proportions,” but that, “somehow when Reed does something wrong, it ends up going right.”

It took nearly two full days to interrogate and book all the suspects. Seventeen in total. Their answers, or horrendous lack thereof, made this turn of good fortune feel fake. They said they didn’t know who the leader was, that the bodyguard androids not only recruited these people, but they told them where to go, what to do, and how much money they would earn after each shift. It sounded incredibly bizarre. Too well executed. But Nines had recorded all the interrogations, analyzed the suspects vitals throughout. None of them were lying.

Currently Connor is interrogating the last suspect. No differing information so far. After some probing, they say, “Wait wait! I remember a name!”

Connor raises his eyebrows, already appraising the suspect’s answer.

“Park! It’s Park! That’s who… yeah, that’s who it is.”

Same answer yields the same question, “Is that a first or last name?”

And, just like all the others, this suspect didn’t have a definite answer.

Officer Person escorts the last suspect to holding so they can be transported to prison to await their trial. Chen, who had been in the room with Nines and aforementioned Person, has been in the room for the last three suspects. Chewing on her thumbnail while watching the proceedings with intense focus.

“We managed to catch all the worker bees, but somehow we lost the queen.”

This wasn’t humorous in the slightest but a colloquial way to tell the truth. Nines knew, however, that if Reed were here, he would respond with a crass quip to Chen’s assessment. 

“And the two worker bees.” 

Yes, the two androids had been shot by the group of officers who ran in after Reed. Another dead end. 

Lack of Reed and his antics aside, Chen is correct. They learned so little after exerting all that time and energy. Nines is about to comment as such when the door opens.

“Hey Tina, Nines,” Miller has his hand on the knob, head poking into the room, “Fowler’s asking for you two.”

A confusing choice of two people, if Chen’s stitched brows are any indicator.

But perhaps not.

Chen officially became a detective three days ago. Previously, before Reed’s stunt, she was going to transfer to another department. Now?

“Nines needs a detective to shadow.” Fowler says as soon as the door closes behind them. “Chen? That’s gonna be you.”

Chen is quick to nod and answer, “Yes, sir,” in a respectful tone.

Her and Reed were often seen together. From what Nines has gathered, from watching their interactions around the bullpen and in the breakroom, they are close companions. Nines assumed that meant she sported a similar anti-android sentiment. Perhaps Nines judged her too harshly.

“While I’m not happy with Gavin…” Fowler says while his fingers massage his left temple, “this might be the best outcome.”

Chen nods, face revealing nothing of her thoughts on the matter.

“Nines,” Fowler turns to it, “you okay with this?”

Nines knows that it doesn’t truly have a choice in the matter, but it appreciates his question all the same. “Yes, sir.”

“Maybe you can convince Tina to stay.” Fowler’s hand drops when a notification sound plays from his monitor, “That way I can finally transfer Gavin.”

Nines watches Chen grin in its peripheral.

Strange.

Fowler shoos the pair with a hand wave, now only focused on his screen.

Chen guides Nines to her desk, pulls up a chair, lays out all the case files and notes, and begins to fill Nines in on all the details. She always seemed indifferent to Nines when with Reed, but so far Chen is an agreeable woman. An agreeable and relaxed woman. It has been nice to finally see her personal style now that she didn’t have to wear her uniform. Over the course of its deviancy, Nines has become interested in people’s choices in fashion. Humans attach great meaning to clothing and that fact alone is astounding as it is confounding. And Chen tended to go for darker colors, warm toned browns and greens and yellows, in her blouses. Very simple garments with little to no frill about them. And always in women’s slacks and color coordinated dress shoes. 

After twenty-one minutes and eleven seconds, Chen stretches and cracks her back. She turns to Nines and asks, “I’m gonna get some coffee, you want one?”

Nines tilts its head and allows a grin.

She blinks before she laughs in response. “Sorry. Not used to… I didn’t think about –”

“It’s alright. I appreciate the thought.”

When she smiles, Nines notes that it lights up her features. Her eyes especially.

* * *

“You know,” Chen begins, wiping her mouth on a napkin, “I’ve never spent time with an android before.”

Nines inclines its head to see her better, but still paying attention to the tablet in hand. It’s been studying thirium stains from a recent android murder, taken with a special lens so humans can view the thirium long after evaporation. Chen noted the splatter and dragged foot prints through the thirium could indicate that the unsub was rushed. Then noting that the cuts were jagged and at a strange angle which could mean the same thing. The tech examiner noted a similar sentiment, that the android was stabbed from an odd angle. But she made sure to note that there where indents in the left shoulder in the shape of a handprint. More specifically, the first few fingers on the front of the shoulder and a thumb near the neck. Humans have been known to dent plastisteel with enough pressure, especially given that androids are very lightweight. It was extremely fascinating to hear their explanations with so little data. Nines needed more to gain such insights. It was frustrating.

The creaking crinkle of her plastic container draws Nines to the present. “I have to say, you’re not at all what I expected.” She tucks her napkin under the salad container and sticks her fork in a piece of chicken. Nines noticed that she tends to eat one particular item at a time, even if – like in this case – the food was basically homogeneous. “You act so serious, but you’re…” She looks up, her dark bangs swaying, fork covering her mouth as she chews, “I’m trying to think of a nice way to put it.”

“Say what you want. It won’t affect me.” Nines lies.

Tina struggles to swallow as she laughs, fork down so she can cover her mouth, “See? Like that! No way that’s true.”

“Why do you say that?” It’s not paying attention to the tablet anymore.

“I’ve seen you laugh.” She says as if that’s the end of it.

With an eyebrow curved up, Nines asks, “So?”

Chen rolls her eyes, but then shrugs with a groan. “I don’t know, guess I can’t really explain why. I just know that you aren’t Mister Robotronic 24/7.”

“I’m sure you only came to that conclusion once partnered with me.”

“No,” Chen picks up her fork but isn’t looking at what she’s doing. Lettuce, a thin piece of chicken, and a cherry tomato all end up at the end of the prongs. “I figured I was right before, but now I just know.” She takes the bite and, while chewing, gives Nines an eyebrow up for its troubles. All too quickly she makes a disgusted face, looking down at her salad as if it had wronged her.

Nines didn’t see the harm in allowing a smile.

* * *

“It’s all right.” Chen leads a woman to her desk, arm over the top of her back. Nines is quick to get up from the extra chair its occupying. “Take a few deep breaths.” Instead of saying more, once the women are seated, Chen motions for the woman to copy her breathing. She does, her heartrate calming a significant amount. On the third breath out, Chen says, “And tell me what’s going on.”

Nines had never seen anything like this before; someone taking control of a situation like that in a means of calming and not dominance.

It’s truly a sight to behold.

“It’s, it’s my android.” The woman looks between Chen and Nines, “He wasn’t at home and, I think, but I don’t know…”

“Tell us your name.” Chen’s voice is soothing. Its thirium pump quickens, eyes darting to Chen. Startled that she’s the source.

“Jessica Wilson.” She says it like she isn’t sure how it would be helpful, a little scorn in her voice.

“We need you to tell us what happened, Jessica.”

The woman’s shoulders slump forwards as her hands tighten on her knees. “I think he was stolen.” Her voice is muted, her face pointing down.

“Why do you say that?”

“He wouldn’t just… he loves… he really cares about Melissa.” Jessica straightens her back a few degrees, wiping away a tear, “my daughter. We bought him to watch my daughter about five years ago.” She swallows, the noise loud even in the bullpen at noon, “He deviated, of course, but he still wanted to live with us.” She looks to Nines to say, “He’s really become part of our family.”

Its unsure as to why she pointed that out to it specifically, but Nines nods, hoping its face looks solemn and not severe.

“My husband he, um, he said something about Jack not being there all day. And that was… he’s normally at home while me and Justin are at work. But Justin was home sick. He said Jack went out to get medicine but he’s still not back.”

Nines finally speaks, its voice a similar quality in volume and level to Mrs. Wilson’s, “Why do you think your android was stolen?”

It seems to work, she doesn’t look frightened or offended. Nines can see Chen in its peripheral vision. Her eyes are darting all over Nines. If Nines had to guess at her emotion, it’d say shock. As to why? Nines is left unsure.

“I came in through the back door, like I always do, and the key did nothing. So I pushed the door and it swung open.”

Nines nods. Chen uncrosses her ankles, sitting more forward in her seat.

“And there was a note.”

“A note?” Both Chen and Nines ask at the same time.

“Yes,” Jessica looks between them, even Nines can tell she’s confused at their outburst.

Nines hears Chen stifle a sigh, fingers on her lips quick, pulling them into a point over her mouth. Her eyes meet Jessica’s to ask, “Do you have the note with you?”

“Oh yes!” Jessica says, as if it’s obvious that she would.

Humans really are useless in a crisis.

Paper crinkles as she pulls it out. Nines hoped, perhaps stupidly, that she put it in a plastic bag so they could dust it for fingerprints. “It’s not in his handwriting, though. His is perfect like a computer… not this!” She points to some words as she holds up the paper. “This is… well I don’t know who’s writing this is!”

Chen pulls a blue nitrile glove from a drawer in her desk to take the paper. Better than nothing. It reads the note, angling its body close to hers. Nines can feel her body heat at this distance through its dress shirt and its synthskin. It’s very pleasant. She also smells nice. Like lavender, honey, and another note Nines can’t place.

“It’s written as if it’s from him.” Nines states, Chen meeting its eyes.

“But it’s not his!” Jessica is adamant, angry. It didn’t mean that to upset her. “And he wouldn’t leave a note to say he was leaving!” Jessica exhales, long and drawn out, before she adds, “He just wouldn’t.” She deflates, arms folded over her stomach. Looking away.

“It looks like it was written in a hurry.” Chen says, noting smudges and blots of pen ink with a hovering pinky finger.

“An androids handwriting wouldn’t be this greatly affected, even when hurried.”

Chen hums, “Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

Chen calls for Miller, asking for an evidence bag. Then turns to the woman and says, “Jessica, we need to file a missing person’s report.”

Jessica’s lip quivers, the only indication that she heard as her eyes are still downcast.

After a few minutes of getting Jack’s description, mostly on clothing and any other distinguishing factors as his model is a common one, Chen sends out an APB.

Miller takes Mrs. Wilson to his desk, asking her if she needs anything, his voice pleasant. She shrugs, dejected, just as Fowler walks up to Nines.

He claps it on the back and says, “Good work.”

Nines wants to say that it did nothing. It is quite sure that the scene would have gone no different if Nines were absent. But then Chen is next to it and says, “Yeah, Nines has been great.”

Nines doesn’t know what to do with its hands, suddenly that feels important with the both of them staring. So, Nines places its hands behind its back and says, “Thank you,” allowing a slight grin.

Nines isn’t sure that it has ever been acknowledged like this before. It’s… pleasant.

**…**

“Jack’s the third android stolen this past week.”

They’re in Chen’s car after they canvassed the Wilson’s neighbors, parked behind a fast-food restaurant. It’s past 10 pm and she hasn’t eaten since noon. She has a burger, covered in the foil, in her hands. She’s staring at it, but not doing much else. A small bite taken from the food. It’s been six minutes. And she is right.

“Do you think there’s a connection?”

Chen covers the burger with the wrapping, places it in the bag, the crinkling of the paper magnified in the small space. She’s not looking anywhere. Unfocused. Chen leans back in her seat, folding her arms over her chest, right hand moving the seatbelt away from her neck.

Nines doesn’t want to bother, but if Chen was meaning for a discussion. Well. They should discuss.

“Detective Chen, what –”

Her sudden expression stops its words. Nines has never seen her face so hard, so severe. “Is that how you’ve… designated me in your head?”

Oh. Nines overstepped. Somehow. It wasn’t sure how, at all, but –

“Maybe I just,” her hands thump against the steering wheel, “didn’t say anything.”

That doesn’t help Nines at all. It attempts to find an answer, and hopefully a solution, by saying, “I didn’t mean to be upsetting. I need to know what I have or haven’t –”

“Nines,” Chen says, pulling Nines away from its speech to meet her eyes, “I just want you to call me Tina.”

Her expressions are all over the place. Nines has never seen anyone emote like this. So many flutter by so quick, and half of them contradict the other half. Nines hopes its optical units haven’t malfunctioned.

“You don’t need to be so clinical with me, okay?” Tina drums her fingers on the steering wheel, her eyes now focused somewhere outside the windshield. “I know you’re capable of it.”

“Tina.” Nines says, hoping again in such a short amount of time that its voice isn’t severe. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Nines watches her shoulders slump, her head tilting, her face forming softer features. “I honestly forget, all the time, that you’re an android.” She’s still looking out the window, away from it, but the feeling Nines gets is similar to when Hank looks at it. That shiver of warmth along its entire body.

Hopefully. This isn’t. This doesn’t mean anything. Nines is worried, but it doesn’t let it show.

“You’re a stern guy who gets stuff done. You fucking iron your shirts and your pants and you care about how you look. You’re polite when you have to be and casual when you don’t. You fucking doodle dots in your notebook when you’re bored. You’re a person.”

Nines lets her words sit. Mostly because it’s unsure of what to say to that. There might not be an answer she’s looking for, but Nines isn’t sure.

“Maybe it’s not politically correct to say,” she says as she turns her eyes to Nines, “but you’re more than an android.”

“Tina,” Nines begins, voice still soft, the crease in its brow softer, “Where is this coming from?” Because, from experience, this sort of reaction has nothing to do with the matter at hand.

She slides her hands up the steering wheel to meet, lacing her fingers. “My girlfriend dumped me.”

“Oh.”

Nines doesn’t know… anything about breakups. It barely understands what to do about its own feelings in general, let alone a relationship. Nines never entertained the thought that someone it knew might go through it either. That they might need help. Someone to listen to them talk just to get it off their mind. It did feel better when Nines spoke to Connor, overall. Looking back, even though there were some awkward spots, Nines would say the experience of having Connor over to talk was a net positive.

“You can talk to me about it, if you like.”

With her hand position the same, she cranes forward to place her chin on top of her laced fingers. There’s four seconds of pause before she opens her mouth. Six more seconds for her to stop opening and closing her mouth to actually speak.

“She said I was too into my job. That I didn’t make time for her.”

Tina groans, Nines can hear her teeth clench. Unable to gauge the pressure, Nines hopes it only heard due to its android hearing and not because she’s harming her teeth.

“I mean she’s right.”

She exhales and it sounds choppy. Her shoulders move in a similar manner downwards.

“I know this isn’t the best time I just.”

Tina moves so her forehead is now on the top of her hands.

Nines doesn’t let that linger, “It’s important to get things off your chest, in my experience.” She doesn’t say anything. Nines is watching her vitals. Her pulse is up a bit but it’s to be expected. Nothing else is changing. Maybe it should say something else. “It helped when I talked about my issues. I was better able to focus on my work.”

Tina snorts. “She said work was the only thing I was good at because I don’t have any emotions. Like a robot, she said.”

Oh.

She turns her head towards the driver’s side window, “Or, ya know, something like that.”

Um.

“So, yeah. I guess it’s back to work because that’s all I’m good at.”

“That’s not… a healthy way to look at yourself.”

Tina laughs but it sounds miserable, her shoulders shaking.

“I don’t know what being in a relationship is like,” Nines tries. Hoping what it’s about to say doesn’t make the situation worse. “But I do know what it’s like to be hurt by someone you cared about. Perhaps not past tense, but present. And that’s what makes it difficult. You want to hate them but there’s not enough to hate.” Her head is still on her hands but her breathing has slowed. “It feels much easier to hate yourself.” Tina’s shoulders shrug as she sighs. “But I don’t think you should hate yourself.”

“Did you think that? That you should be kind to yourself?”

No. “Yes.”

“Then you’re much better at this than I am.”

Nines doesn’t think that’s true, but it most certainly doesn’t want to divulge about itself. Just the thought of telling Tina about Hank, or even Imani, sounds too embarrassing. Perhaps that’s not fair considering what she’s shared, but ending a relationship is different from accidentally falling in love and the person not loving you back.

“I’m not.” It says suddenly, surprising itself. When she turns to meet its eyes, her eyes tinged red, it says, “I lied.” Nines swallows a lump in its throat but it doesn’t move. Might as well go all the way. “I was just embarrassed by my romantic past. Or, well, lack thereof.” Or some of the way.

Tina doesn’t say anything to that. She just stares, head still on her hands and her eyes still on Nines.

“I didn’t lie about the pain, but it is different. It’s a different circumstance.”

“How?” She asks.

“I…” Nines folds its hands in its lap, watching itself lace and unlace its fingers, “I expressed love to someone,” she didn’t have to know it’s been two so far, “and they rejected me.”

Tina hisses, taking quick air between her teeth. “Yeah, I’ve been there. That hurts a lot.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to lie, I was embarrassed.”

Tina shrugs, elbows moving slightly up when she does, “Most people don’t admit when they’ve lied. I’m not sure I would’ve.”

“It didn’t seem fair given what you told me,” Nines admits.

“Well,” Tina grunts as she leans back in her seat, popping her back, pink indents of her fingers on her forehead, “you’re a good person Nines.”

She turns the key, puts the car in reverse, and says, “Come on. We’ll discuss everything tomorrow. I need sleep,” her arm reaches behind Nines’ head rest so she can look behind. Tina doesn’t trust the back-up camera. Nines thinks it’s cute, even if it is a bit dangerous.

A silence falls between them. It’s not uncomfortable, but Nines worries its left something unsaid. It isn’t sure how to bring it up. None of the options it had come up with sound good. Except for one.

“You are not a robot, Tina.”

Tina chuckles, eyes on the road.

“I’m aware that might sound strange coming from me, but it’s true.”

She slows to a stop at a red light and turns to Nines. “I knew it,” She makes a fist and gives it a gentle nudge on its upper arm, “You’re just a big, pants ironing softy.”

When she pulls back to drive at the green light, Nines can still feel the warmth from her hand. It glides down its arms to the tips of its fingers.

Another pleasant sensation.

* * *

Two days later they find Jack Wilson, the Wilson’s PL600, dead and covered in thirium. Although, it’s been too long, the humans cannot see any of it. But Nines can. It’s everywhere. All along his body, his arms and legs, and in his hair, a wide circle cast under him. According to the dry-down, Jack has been here between thirty to thirty-six hours.

Nines steps back, searching Jack’s body. Its HUD beeps indicating an unseen clue. To the right of Jack’s head, beside the dried pool of thirium, is a shape. Nines asks a CSI passing by they could take a photograph with the thirium seeking lens. In the viewfinder, the drawing is apparent.

“It’s a heart.” Tina says from the other side of the CSI.

It’s right on top of the blood stain from the unknown kidnapper. Nines was surprised to hear that Jack was found in the house where a different crime took place. It felt like so long ago when it and Connor fought here. Nines stifled a shudder, not wanting to think about that right now.

“This feels familiar.”

Oh? “Were you at this crime scene eighteen days ago, Tina?”

“What?” She asks, but quickly adds, “No, no. This just.” She indicates with an open hand to the body. “Looks the same.”

Nines turns its gaze back upon the body, unsure of her meaning.

“Don’t you think this is similar to that body the tech examiner talked to us about?”

Nines tilts its head and complies data. Three seconds later the results are inconclusive. “I’m not sure.”

She hums. Waves for Nines to follow her. They step outside. The sun is setting, the sky glowing pinks and purples. The colors bleed into one another. The effect is nothing short of astounding. Nines keeps its eyes to the skyline. It doesn’t normally get to see this view. Nines commits it to memory.

When they get to her car, Tina sits on the hood and crosses her ankles. “What’s that heart about, ya think?”

The streets are empty, luckily, so they can talk freely. This is not an area people congregate in. Especially during daylight hours. Although that window was closing, and fast.

“The shape was drawn above the kidnapper’s bloodstain and Jack’s dried thirium.”

She hums again, biting at her thumbnail and staring at the house. Her eyes follow the CSIs walking in and out. “Do you think that’s relevant?” Tina asks around her thumb.

Nines shrugs, moves its hands to its pockets. The wind picks up and its arm hairs move.

“Off topic,” Tina says, slapping her thighs, “When are you getting’ your uniform, huh?”

“Not sure.” Nines smiles despite the scene. “I’m not a typical case. I’ve moved along faster than my classmates so I’ll have to wait to be properly inducted.”

Tina snorts, shaking her head, bangs swaying in the breeze, “By that point you’ll be a detective.”

“More than likely.”

“Or, hell, maybe even Lieutenant.”

Nines makes a face, Tina laughs. It responds, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

She does that playful hit on his arm again and says, “Just messin’ with ya.”

One of Nines’ eyebrows twitch. It tries to hide it, or lessen it, but Tina says, “Nuh-uh! Tweak that eyebrow, gimme that look.”

“What look?”

Tina raises a shoulder, “Whatever one you were gonna give me.”

Nines shakes its head. Steps closer to the car to reach the passenger’s side door and opens it to get its tablet.

“Seriously though,” Tina says as it closes the door, “I’m tired of seeing you in button ups and slacks.”

It’s becoming obvious how Tina and Reed got along so well. Once she’s distracted, there is little that can be done to get her back on track. Perhaps Nines should be annoyed. But it isn’t. She’s charming like this.

“We get it, you’ve got a fashion sense! Doesn’t mean you gotta gloat.” She leans back, her hands behind her on the roof of the car.

It’s thirium picks up its pace. Beating fast though its body. Nines has never been complimented on its appearance. Nines smiles, hoping it isn’t obvious how giddy it feels, before saying, “So the victim –”

“Yes, yes. Sorry.” Tina leans forward, hands on her knees. “Let’s get back to it.” She’s trying to sound serious. She’s failing, but Nines ignores that and pushes on.

**…**

Before it passed the police exam, Nines didn’t understand why anyone – especially an android – would want to take a government mandated break. After shadowing Tina, dissecting and analyzing crime scenes, speaking with medical and technical examiners, and filing countless reports, Nines now knows the benefit. Sometimes it’s… nice to let its processors rest. Let its mind wander. Just enjoy the world around it.

9:30 at night was a strange time in the precinct. Could either be insanely busy or completely quiet. Right now? Most of the officers were on patrol, only one or two were on desk duty, which left Nines to hear the hum of the coffee maker and the refrigerator. It turned off the television when it came into the break room. Complete and total silence from talking.

Seven minutes and forty-two seconds later, Connor enters the bullpen. Nines stares, watching Connor place papers inside of a manila file folder, bending in between his and Hank’s desks to file the folder. It briefly regards Connor’s frame – he is very pleasing to watch. Humans were not the only ones who thought so. Connor quickly stands, back straight and at attention. He turns around and instantly makes eye contact with Nines, who decides to give Connor a friendly grin.

He blinks more than what is necessary before smiling back, taking it as an invitation to walk over. Nines doesn’t mind at all. If anything, it feels its body thrum with anticipation.

Connor arrives, seats himself next to Nines at the rounded table so both can see the bullpen. Connor’s warm brown eyes meet Nines and he says, “You look a lot happier!”

Nines chuckles at his assessment, “Thank you, Connor. I think I am.”

Connor’s face remains smiling. Or, at least his eyes do, somehow. Nines has noticed how easy it is for Connor to appear happy. He was built for it, after all.

“Hank tells me you’re doing great work.”

The sound of his name stings. Seeing his face hurts. Being within five feet of Hank sends its thirium acidic, souring its biocomponents.

“Does he?”

“Yes!” Connor says, leaning closer to Nines so they’re nearly elbow to elbow, “He says that you and Detective Chen are working well together. And I see it too.” Connor extends one of his arms straight, tapping his fingers on the middle of the table, “You two are in each other’s pockets, lately.”

Their arms are very close. Neither of their arms are covered. If they touch, who know what Connor could see? So, Nines pulls its left arm in and around its middle, leaning on its right elbow to bodily turn to Connor. That way, it appears that Nines angled its body to Connor. No ulterior motive.

Connor flits his eyes over Nines’ movements, as if he’s calculating. Nines doesn’t say or indicate anything, just keeps its face pleasant. After two seconds, Connor still doesn’t look offended, and says, “I don’t remember her being this close with _Gavin_.”

Nines can’t stop its eyelids from fluttering but it does look away, pretending to be invested in scratching its nail on the pitted surface of the table. But this? This brings up a good point. It’s strange how Nines didn’t think about it until right this very moment.

“Were Gavin and Tina…” Nines is still watching its fingernail hit the grooves of the tabletop, “Ever…?”

Nines watches Connor tilt his head from the corner of its eye. His brows begin to furrow just before his eyes widen. “Oh! Hm. I don’t… think so. They’re not.” Connor bites his lip and looks away, face worried. “They’re not each other’s type.”

Relief floods Nines’ body. It decides to let it show, let Connor see. Why not?

Connor meets Nines eyes again, “Please be careful.”

“What?” Nines asks without thinking. But it’s a fair question. Nines has no idea to what Connor is referring.

“Sometimes.” Connor look away again. His shoulders are up. He’s tense. Nines is very worried. “Sometimes things are exactly how they seem. No more or no less.”

Nines. Is upset. “What does that even mean?” Connor gives it a pitying look and that. Just makes more erupt. “I didn’t ask for riddles, Connor. If you have something to tell me, say it plainly.” Nines leans forward, closer to Connor to emphasize its point, “Please.”

“I…”

Nines grits its teeth. Leans back into its chair, back and neck stiff, hackles raised.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Nines hopes it didn’t sound so pathetic when it apologized to Tina days ago, “I care about you.”

Without another word, Connor stands up and walks out of the room. Nines takes a deep breath in and out, trying to steady itself. Not wanting to be upset. Not wanting to fight with Connor yet again.

Its fingernail digs deep into the table. A piece splinters off, rising to meet underneath the nail. Nines picks the piece out, watching a drop of thirium pool while the little dot of exposed plastisteel covers with synthskin.

* * *

At 5:49 am, Tina calls Nines. It’s learned that answering quickly, even though both ends of the phone and all its buttons live inside its head, startles people. After the third ring, Nines answers.

Another android body was found.

Nines doesn’t tell Tina that it needs a ride if it needs to arrive quickly, which it’s sure it does.

A thought pops up and it bristles against its entire body, making it shiver. It’s technically a wise thought but. Nines hasn’t made up with Connor. The argument was only eleven hours and forty-eight minutes ago.

Nines needs to swallow its pride.

**Nines | Connor? Are you available? I have a request.**

Not three seconds pass before –

**Connor | Are you okay? Are you hurt? Damaged?**

Nines winces. It can see how Connor might think that the only way it’d contact him but. It still hurt.

**Nines | I’m perfectly optimal. I didn’t mean to startle you.**

Even phrased like that it sounded so similar to Connor’s apology last night.

**Nines | I’m needed at a crime scene and there is no way I’ll arrive on time if I ride the bus. Is it possible to have you and/or Hank take me?**

**Connor | Couldn’t you take an auto-taxi?**

Nines. Hated. Auto-taxis.

Even the thought of being alone in one again, even after so long, hurt so much that it formed physical making Nines stomach compartment hard like a rock.

**Connor | I can get one and come pick you up. We can go together?**

Nines is so relieved that it won’t be alone that it has a quick and jarring thought of kissing Connor. But that’s. Not. So…

**Connor | Is that a good compromise?**

**Nines | Yes, it is. Thank you so very much.**

It means it, deeply. From every corner and component of its body.

**Connor | It is no problem at all.**

Nines doubted that deeply. It needs to apologize when it sees Connor. For this and for eleven hours and fifty-two minutes ago.

**…**

Its thirium pump jolts at the sight of the auto-taxi outside its home. Its feet fail, frozen in place. Connor rolls down a window. Smiles. As if nothing had happened between them twelve hours and one minute ago. Waves for it to come in as he opens the door.

Its sight is a blur as Nines steps inside. Then it’s. Suffocating.

“Nines?”

There’s no way it’s hiding its discomfort well. Or at all.

“I don’t like –”

“I know.” Connor moves his body to meet Nines’ eyes line, his knee on the floor, “I saw.”

Nines can’t gather what he means as the door slides shut and the taxi begins to drive. Once Connor’s worry becomes like a permanent feature, it hits it.

Oh.

“Nines, I. It’s very hard to control what can and can’t be seen when… and I… I should have told you.”

Tears were forming in his eyes. Why was he upset? Sure, he accidentally saw some of Nines’ memories but –

“I didn’t tell you on purpose.”

What?

“I didn’t.” Connor’s fully on the floor now. His knees folded up to his chest. Arms wrapped around his legs. Chin between his knees. Nines has never seen someone sit like that before. It appears self-soothing, if anything. “I wanted to see how much better you are than me.”

Nines swallows. That tired, hard lump forming in its throat.

“I saw Imani. I saw all of that. I just… I –”

“Connor,” Nines places a hand on Connor’s jacketed shoulder, “It’s fine.”

“What?” His voice sounds watery. “Why?” He’s not doing much better than Nines right now.

In a way, that’s a comfort. “We’re both terrible at this.”

Connor laughs, wiping away his tears, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Despite how I might act towards you, I don’t want to fight you, Connor.”

Nines releases Connor’s shoulder, then pats the spot next to it. Connor’s smile sends that evil feeling throughout its body but. It’s also a good feeling. It’s mostly a good feeling. It’s a great feeling.

“And, I have to say, you’ve completely distracted me from my hysterics with your own.” Nines says as Connor sits in the car seat. He’s laughing again and that forever familiar feeling slides throughout its chassis. Connor’s staring at it. His eyes dilate like they always do when he looks at Nines. There’s a light dusting of pink on his face.

Then Connor. Holds out his hand. Nines. Balks. Connor’s face falls.

“Connor, it’s…”

“I understand,” he says as his hand finds his knee. He’s most certainly lying.

But that fear is creeping again. According to the timer, they’ll arrive in eleven minutes. Nines doesn’t think it can wait eleven more minutes before self-destructing, as theatrical as that sounds in its head.

Connor bumps its shoulder. At first, Nines figures it due to a bump in the road. But when it happens again, and the vehicle hasn’t jostled, Nines decides to lean into him. Connor’s arms are covered by that jacket, and he’s keeping his hand between his knees.

That deep and painful ache of self-destruction abates.

**…**

The morning air is still dewy, and it’s still dark. Flashlights and set up spotlights and the streetlamps light the scene.

“It’s an AP700 this time.” Tina says, Nines standing next to her.

Connor is in its peripheral. Its thirium hasn’t stopped thrumming through its synthetic veins since the ride over. When its eyes peer to Tina’s, barely paying attention to the events that brought it here, the feeling changes. But it’s so very similar that they might as well be the same.

Nines conducts an experiment.

It looks at Connor. He’s talking to Miller and Person. Miller is showing him information on a tablet. It stares long enough until Connor’s eyes dart to Nines. When he does, he smiles. Nearly no lapse between the two actions. Person speaks, bringing Connor’s attention with it.

Nines catalogues its feelings: that all too familiar flowy feeling in addition to an anomaly in its optical unit. After it runs a quick diagnostic, it finds there are no permanent problems with its eyes. The scan didn’t show anything wrong in the first place. But that wouldn’t be the first time.

It looks at Tina. She’s chewing on her thumbnail, staring at the body as CSIs and technicians work over the android. Lost in thought. When she looks over, she gives a little grin and mumbles, “You okay?” around her thumbnail.

Nines catalogues its feelings: that same feeling of fluttering through its chassis. The same as when it has met eyes with Imani, Hank, and… Connor. Nothing additional occurs.

Nines nods, experiment concluded. “Yes.”

They both turn to the body. Nines cannot use its reconstruction suite with so many in the way. It needs to wait.

Tina removes her fingernail from her mouth and slides the same hand into her pocket, “CSI took a photograph. Another heart. We didn’t release that to the public at all so…”

Nines nods, places its hands behind its back and meets them, “It’s a serial killer.”

She nods, sighing, eyes never leaving the body, “Yeah.”

It isn’t as quiet as previous crime scenes have been. CSIs move around and through people and warning tape and each other, talking loudly all the while. There’s about a dozen people outside the police line, a strange sight to see so early in the morning. Brown and Lewis are stationed outside the line to keep the peace.

“Right in a front yard?” Nines hears a man cry, “That’s insane!” Nines watches the man move his way around people, getting close to the line, and says, “It’s just an android.”

“It’s considered murder, now.” Officer Lewis says, sarcasm obvious even to it. Nines did always like him.

The man makes a noise that Nines has filed to mean that he’s in disbelief.

Tina cracks her back with a groan, arms above her head, bringing Nines back to focus. When she swings her arms down, she says, “That PL600, Jack? He’s one of the kidnapping victims. Heart. Here?” She gestures to the body with an upturned palm, “Heart.”

“You think the kidnappings and the murders are connected, then?”

Nines head moves of its own accord to meet Tina’s staring eyes, “Looks that way, Niner.”

Nines nearly speaks but shuts its lips. Its eyelashes flutter, so it looks away. It wills its thirium to stop sprinting circles throughout its chassis. Nines understands that as a nickname.

Tina doesn’t seem to notice. She turns her eyes back to the body.

Nines feels like it has an answer now. It was slow going, unlike the previous two times, but the feeling was ultimately the same.

**…**

The trouble started in the evidence lock-up.

Tina and Nines were working well together, hitting their stride with ease, no different than normal. Not long after they began, Tina admitted that she found their workload daunting. And, yes, between the kidnapping victims, the murder victims, their families and neighbors statements, and finding connections between it all, Nines understands the list itself is overwhelming. So, Nines agrees with her.

Twelve minutes and ten seconds afterwards, Connor and Hank arrive. Tina asked for their help.

The room feels senselessly filled. Stuffed with tablets, laptops, pens and papers, and evidence in the form of android bodies and their parts. Voices echo off the walls. Pens clicking echoes off the walls. Shuffling papers or grabbing a file folder echoes off the walls. The quick tap tapping of the laptop keys echo. Tina’s healthy and normal breathing. Hank’s broad shoulders and stout stomach. The smell of them. Listening to their deeply contrasting but incredibly pleasant voice patterns, even talking of terrible things. And the room itself with everyone in it was so… stifling. Everything is giving off heat. The laptops, the overhead lights, the examination tables and shelves, their combined body heat. They were so hot. No, it is Nines who is hot. Its temperature is 10 degrees Fahrenheit above its normal.

So difficult to process with these limitations. So difficult to focus. Nines doesn’t want to be distracted. It doesn’t want to notice any of these so glaringly obvious and potentially life ruining pieces of these people. But no matter how much of their information it cordons off, straight up ignores, or compartmentalizes, Nines is left with copious errors that stack the longer it is in this room. There’s no way Nines can leave.

To be in a room, so close, to them. Grasping and throwing away emotions it didn’t want because of them. About them. For them. All of these feelings are for them, wanting the best or the worst but not really just be with me instead no don’t look at me please look at me.

Now Nines knows, in a way it couldn’t before, what it means to feel daunted.

For hours. Nines wants. Nothing more. Than to dive into a ditch. That might not kill it though. There needs to be something in the ditch that can harm it, at least. Maybe spikes.

It’s 10 pm when Hank groans. Stretches. Arms above his head, pulling his shirt up. Nines can’t look, doesn’t look when some of his stomach shows. But then his arms swing down as he says, “I think we need to call it a night.”

Connor’s synthskin returns, covering his previously white plastisteel hand. He places the tablet down before he says, “We have no new leads on the kidnapped. And the dead will stay that way until morning.”

Tina blows air out of her mouth, rolling her shoulders. Straightening and arching her back. Cycling her neck. Joints popping along her body all the while when she says, “Morbid.”

“Man, I wish I could still do that,” Hank says. “I bet if I attempted any of that I’d snap in half.”

Connor says, “Hank…” at the same time Tina says, “I doubt that. You’re still pretty put together for an old man.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever, don’t patronize me.”

Nines watches Connor give Hank a pointed look. He pinches his face right back at Connor, Nines now knows that sort of face is a form of sarcasm. Connor rolls his eyes, dishing right back, and their silent conversation concludes.

Tina and Hank begin talking about… well Nines is having trouble figuring that out, actually. Connor crowds his space quickly. Nines is afraid of him touching it. Now more than ever before.

It takes a few steps back.

Connor takes one step forward. “Nines, are you okay?”

It’s not the first time Connor has asked that question in the past twenty-four hours. It wasn’t the second. Or the fifth.

Daunted and stifled and cornered.

Nines doesn’t, no, can’t answer. If it does, Connor will most certainly notice the heat escaping. If he hasn’t already.

Connor turns to the others just as Hank says, “Yes and, apparently, it takes two hours to get from here to—”

“What?” Tina very nearly shouts. Nines thirium pump stutters at the sound.

**Connor | She’s not upset – she’s worried about you.**

That particular feeling stopped, but the others hadn’t decreased.

“To be fair,” Connor chimes in, making the humans turn to him, “that includes waiting and walking.”

“Whose side are you on?” Hank asks with a higher pitched voice and thinned eyes.

Tina exhales when she meets Nines’ eyes, “I wish you would have told me.”

Nines blinks. It needs to say something. It knows it needs to say something – anything! It –

“Could you take Nines home, Tina?”

“Yes! Of course!” Her face shows she’s very serious.

This is a bad idea. Nines will have no time to decompress. Literally.

The group walks out together, the other three talk amicably.

“So what’re we gonna call this guy?” Hank asks.

“The Valentine Killer?” Connor suggests.

Hank makes a sound denoting his disgust. “Jesus, that sounds so stupid.”

Tina snorts, “Hey if the press ever gets wind of this, you know that’s what they’ll ‘em.”

They split off into twos once outside. Now that Connor is out of sight, Nines releases some heat from its ears.

Tina, luckily, seems none-the-wiser. At least now it can talk.

“Thank you for your offer, Tina, but this isn’t –”

“Nope, I’m taking you home.”

She opens the passenger’s side door. Her face showing that the matter is final.

**…**

“Gavin’s been doing a lot better.” Tina says after the car is stuck in a stiff silence. The turn indicator click click clicking filling up the space.

“Oh.” Nines says, unsure on what to respond for the fourth time this trip. “That’s good.” But Nines has no idea if that’s good or not.

“Yeah, I know you don’t know him all that well.” The car slows to a stop. “But he’s not that bad once you get to know him. He’s a damn good detective.”

She ends the sentence in a way that sounds like she might say more. Or, maybe, she thinks Nines will respond. Nines knows nearly nothing of Gavin. They’ve talked one on one a total of once. The rest of their interactions are Gavin verbally jabbing at Connor while ignoring Nines.

“When he wants to be.” Tina adds with a low voice.

Nines fills the short silence by asking, “Does he want to be a good detective often?”

Tina snorts in response. Shakes her head. “You didn’t hear that from me.”

Who would Nines tell? Connor? As if he didn’t already know in some way shape or fashion.

Minutes tick past. But the clock on the center dash is three minutes off. Nines wonders if it should tell Tina. But. It should take about five to six minutes to arrive outside its apartment building.

Tina clears her throat, Nines looks over for lack of anything else to do. Apparently, that was her plan, “So I noticed you acting weird in evidence.”

Oh.

Oh no.

Nines turns its head to face the windshield.

“What was that all about?” She tacks a little chuckle on at the end. Showing she’s being friendly.

Okay. Alright. What do you say. How do you say it. No. Figure out what to say first. Tell the truth? Part of it? Half of it? All –

“Connor kept making eyes at you the whole time.”

Nines blinks.

Almost turns to look at her but doesn’t.

“I thought he was with Anderson, so.”

Nines swallows. Its throat might turn to stone at this rate.

After twenty seconds and eight milliseconds Tina sighs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.” She drums her fingers against the back of the steering wheel. “You’re not usually so quiet so, you know, it’s weird.”

Oh.

Oh.

No.

It was there. On the tip of its tongue.

Nines would be the first to admit that Tina didn’t respond to it the way Hank did. Or Imani. And especially not Connor. For two of those people, Nines assumed it was correct. So maybe. It’s been wrong this whole time about how people act when they are attracted to someone.

“Well, um,” Tina clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “You can talk to me about whatever. I know you’d do the same for me ‘cause, well, you have.”

That familiar hurt flooded its body.

Just. Find out. Say it.

Get it over with.

“Tina,” Nines says slowly. She turns her head minutely, eyes mostly on the road. “Would you.” It can hear her blink. “Like to go out some time?”

“I don’t date men.” It’s the most automatic response Nines has heard. Ever. She might not have even thought on it. Sure enough, two whole seconds go by before her face changes. Face turning red.

But?

Wait.

“I’m not… a man.”

She’s pulling into a parking space just out front of the apartment complex.

“I’m an android.”

She puts the car into park. Clicks the parking brake. It’s seen her do this so many times. Another completely automatic response.

Oh.

But wait.

“I’m not! I.” Oh. This is bad. “I’m not trying to sway you or. If the answers no—” Nines is tempted to find a cliff. “—that’s fine.” And throw itself off.

**~ ### ~**

Tina hadn’t been propositioned – ugh, god that sounds awful – by a man in a long time.

She liked to think that she cultivated a look that downright screamed “lesbian.”

Connor came into the DPD green socially, but police and detective work he got. And quick. But Nines? It’s… weird. You’d figure the next in line after Connor would be better at that sort of stuff. But he wasn’t. He didn’t know much, just like any person fresh from the academy wouldn’t. That’s why Tina forgets with Nines and couldn’t help but remember with Connor. Connor runs around knowing everything. Telling everyone everything. Trying to brown nose everyone. Just generally annoying. But Nines isn’t like that at all. Nines never really knew jack shit. Unless he was taught. And, honestly that was nice, because you only had to teach him once.

So, really, it should come as no surprise when Nines didn’t notice – fuck he probably just didn’t know how to tell in the first place – that Tina’s a lesbian.

“Okay.” She’s speaking slowly and not rushing this at all. “You’re an android, yes.”

She chances a look at him and, oh Jesus Christ. Tina swallows spit, moving her throat around because it instantly jammed up at the sight of him. She’d never seen Nines look so… so fucking sad. All of his emotions were usually at surface level. But maybe he was bottling it up because otherwise… Maybe he thinks he’d be the same as Connor? That did seem to be a big sticking point. Tina only brought it up once, saying they looked the same and the guy pretty much pouted for a good half day. It’s a good best guess. 

“But you were made to look like a man. And, yeah, I’m not, uh, attracted to them.”

Well, okay! He doesn’t look any worse. His face isn’t changing or anything but it doesn’t look any worse, so...

There’s one of those long, awkward, drawn out pauses again. Tina tries her best to shut up and not fill the void with talking. She bites the inside of her lip.

“So.” He sounds like he’s trying not to cry. “What if I…” She feels bad because now Tina realizes that he’s looked like that for the better part of the day, just muted. Until Hank made them leave. His eyes are on her again before he says, “What if I was in a feminine body?”

JFLKSAFKJLZJLDKJLJLZDJKSLDFHSGJKSDFJHjlsfhsdhdgfklsj;dajghfzkl;jkhgfdkjsg;jljg lkdgh

Okay. Okay. Okay. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.

Tina couldn’t help it, she inhaled deep and exhaled fast, her eyebrows up to her hairline.

This feels awful. This feels so fucking awful. It feels even more awful ‘cause she’s now realizing that he _was_ giving her goo-goo eyes and she didn’t make that up. Tina thought Nines had a crush on Hank. And Connor definitely had a crush on Nines but he was with – Okay, okay. Not helping.

“Well, Nines, I already know you as a man.”

Okay. Okay. Okay. Maybe. Maybe it’s. Maybe she should.

What was that thing her and Gav were talking about?

Ah!

“CyberLife is made up of humans, right? Well humans use their own stupid logic to create androids. And androids don’t have sex, like the bits not the—”

Tina coughs into her fist. Jesus Christ.

“They would, er, you guys wouldn’t because you can’t make…”

He’s just staring. Not changing.

“… babies. Okay, look. I’m trying to say that, whether it was on purpose or not, you act like a man.”

Nines eyebrows shift down along with his eyes. He looks to be deep in thought about it, but she really needs to drive this point home.

“And, Nines, you shouldn’t… change yourself for someone else.” His chest shudders. No, the better word is probably vibrates. “I can’t tell you who you are, you know? Only you can figure that out.” It sounds like a dumb platitude, but it’s true in this case.

He’s blinking a lot. Then he wipes away the wet on his face. He’s still looking down. He still looks so fucking depressed.

“If I’d known how you felt from the jump, I’d have told you. I’m sorry Nines. I just…” She drums her fingers on the bottom part of the wheel. “I really see you as a very good friend. It was nice having someone to pal around with, you know? Especially ‘cause you’re a lot smarter than Gavin.”

Nines cracks a little smile and he does that thing where he half laughs by pushing air out his nose.

“I really care about you, Nines. I’m sorry it’s not in the way you want but… I think you’ll find someone someday.”

And she does. He’s a solid guy. If she knew he was looking, she’d have been looking for a nice… whoever he’s attracted to, for him. Tina’s tempted to say that out loud but she’s worried it’ll sound too dismissive. It’s fucking hard to deal with rejection. She knows that truth well.

**~ ### ~**

Nines almost asks, “Really?” But it doesn’t.

If Nines spoke it might sound too hopeful. And it didn’t want to be someone pitiable

Instead, Nines nods. Tries its best to give a smile. Or a grin. Or whatever’s less than a grin.

After sitting in its apartment contemplating everything that happened today, Nines realized it had the day off tomorrow. The idea of being alone. With all of these feelings. Being hurt yet again.

This might have been the longest day of Nines’ life.

If Nines could vomit it would.

* * *

Nines invites Connor over after his shift.

It… doesn’t leave the apartment all day. Nines just sits. Either in the chair pointed out the window, or just on the floor staring at the chipped and cracking wall.

Nines left… itself. A lot to think about after its stasis.

The words Nines told Connor ring in its audio processors:

_Because CyberLife designed you based on a human’s idea of a nonthreatening male?_

True or not. It didn’t matter. It was a terrible thing to say. Well. At least the two were amicable now. But that replay brought up the point that’s been drilling in Nines’ head since last night.

Who is… it?

Nines didn’t have many hobbies or interests. So tracking its gender that way, albeit arbitrary, feels silly.

Nines wasn’t even good at anything. Besides making people feel unsettled. That didn’t go one direction or the other, it figured.

Nines just. Acted. Like a man.

According to anyone who acknowledged it. And while that didn’t necessarily matter, humans are a pattern seeking species even in the most illogical of places, Nines didn’t feel right using any other known pronoun. It also stopped feeling right to use…

Well.

**Connor | I’m free! Be there between fifteen and seventeen minutes! : )**

So. Nines waits.

Nines stands just before Connor knocks, hearing his distinctive footfalls from feet away.

Connor’s face is up and bright, like normal. And then, he looks at Nines, and his face falls.

“Nines?”

Nines steps back, allowing Connor into the space.

“Please don’t ask me if I’m okay.”

Nines hear Connor sputtering, sadly forming words.

“No, I’m not… It’s not because I’m not,” Nines lets out a long exhale. “I am upset. There’s a lot I’d like to talk about.” Nines meets Connor’s now dulled brown eyes, “If that’s all right with you.”

“Of course.” Connor says, voice barely there.

So they sit. Like they did eleven days ago. In the very same spots. Sitting in the very same way. It might be funny if Nines was in the mood for it.

Nines begins talking. Not thinking. Just talking. Saying what happened. Saying what comes to mind. About how, this time, Nines slowly fell for Tina over the course of eight days.

As Nines tells the tale of a little more than a week ago, Connor’s face changes. First, he looks confused. After a few minutes. Understanding. Then, right as Nines was talking about what Tina said in the car last night, Connor looks away. Nines guesses he’s embarrassed. Seems to be a common emotion Nines invokes.

But even when meeting Nines’ eyes, that look of distress doesn’t decrease.

Nines arrives at now. Connor’s biting on his lower lip, staring at the linoleum under his feet.

“Connor?” He looks up, eyes still the same. “Are you okay?”

And Connor laughs. His eyes are crinkling in the corners and his chest moves. From what Nines has seen, that’s how humans laugh when they’re actually happy. Not sarcastic or sad. There’s some reason, and Nines can’t pinpoint exactly what, that Nines feels like Connor might be lying.

“Yes,” Connor says after a beat of not laughing, smiling as if he didn’t look extremely upset not ten seconds ago, “I’m sorry, I just thought it humorous that you asked _me_ that question.”

Nines has a few ideas as to what Connor could mean, because Nines didn’t let him ask that question or because Connor thinks Nines is self-centered, but no matter what it doesn’t stop Nines from saying, “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

Connor looks apprehensive, but then his face returns to its normal, neutral state. He turns to look out the window. There will be about four minutes until the sun sets.

“Oh.” Nines says, surprising Connor, “I wanted to talk to you about…” Nines was going to ask Connor’s opinion, but just before Nines opens his mouth, he knows. “I’m going to use he, him as well.”

“Oh!” Connor is completely taken aback. “I’m happy that you figured that out.”

Connor’s smile, even though it might be fake, makes Nines feel that familiar feeling. It’s – His thirium pump aches right after.

“I am too.”

Connor takes the lead after a beat, telling Nines of the Valentine case. Yes, they were calling it that. Nines is glad to catch up, even though he wasn’t in today.

A train whistles by miles away. There’s a clang and a crash of a dumpster lid at the Chinese restaurant down the street. Someone shouts from their window at a passerby. Tenants are moving about their apartments, talking or laughing or – in one case – singing.

And then there’s Connor. Right next to Nines. So close that Nines can feel Connor’s synthetic heat – he’s naturally a few degrees above Nines. He listens to Connor talk. And watches. How he speaks so animated. How light hits his eyes and they gleam iridescent, mechanical underneath.

Connor smiles, eyes darting over Nines’ face.

Nines smiles in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nines: i've known tina for 8 days and but if anything happened to her i would kill everyone in this room and then myself
> 
> comments are Very appreciated~
> 
> you can follow me on my twitter [goldenganjj](https://twitter.com/goldenganjj) for fic updates and fandom nonsense and also because I'm sure y'all wanna yell at me about this :')


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